


The Charmings and Snow/Charming Collection

by misscam



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2017-12-21 08:08:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 129
Words: 86,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misscam/pseuds/misscam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ficlets written after prompts. Charming family, Snow/Charming, a few Emma ships referenced.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These are all ficlets written after prompts submitted to my Tumblr. A few are mature, though the majority are G or T-rated. Some are short, while others are much longer.

_Charming kissing Snow in the snow_

He hadn't planned this. Honest. He had simply meant to take his wife outside for a walk, strolling like dignified royals through the garden, but somehow he made one pun and ended up on his back in the snow with Snow at his front too.

The stuff at his back is cold, but the woman leaning over him and kissing him is all warmth and life and the spring of his life. He links his arms around her and pulls her more firmly against him before flipping her underneath him instead. 

He hadn't planned this, but he has to admit this is actually better than his plan of pulling her behind the trees to kiss her up against them. This is softer, for one thing. 

“Snow in snow,” he jokes, and she gives him a stern look. 

“Charming, if you make one more 'Snow' pun...”

“Then what?”

“Then the only snow you will be getting is this,” she says and shoves a pile of it against his chest. He merely laughs, kissing her and crushing the snow between them; like everything else between them, it simply melts away.


	2. Chapter 2

_Snowing having another baby and Emma holding it for the first time_

Emma has been dreading this moment since she first learned of the pregnancy. She’s known it was coming since she saw her parents’ bright, hopeful and a touch anxious faces as they told her and told them she was happy for them.

She was. She is. But she’s still fearing this.

“This is your brother,” David says gently and lowers the baby into Emma’s arms. The bundle is so tiny and warm and she remembers another child she held in her arms. For a moment she can barely breathe from the pain of it.

Then the baby opens its eyes and looks at her and she can only look. Oh. This isn’t Henry. Henry is looking up at her with excitement right now. This is a new child; her brother.

“He’s beautiful,” she manages and David can only nod.

“Do you want him back?” she asks Mary Margaret, who leans against David with such bright, teary eyes.

“You can hold him for as long as you like, sweetheart,” her mother says and their eyes meet in understanding; they’ve both had to hold a child all too briefly before having to let go.


	3. Chapter 3

_Emma finds Graham's letter after the funeral_

There are a reasons for walls, Emma Swan thinks distantly. It’s not just keeping people out, no. They also hold the structure together and keep it from caving in. Make them strong enough, and you can even withstand an earthquake.

The ground feels like it is shifting beneath Emma as she reads; this is Graham’s letter to her that was probably never intended to be read, crumpled as it was in his bottom drawer. But death tears privacy away; no walls can hold it out.

His greatest wish was that they could be together, and Emma stares at the letters until her eyes hurt and her heart feels as empty as he claimed his was. It wasn’t, of course. His was a heart she might even have grown to trust.

But no. Slowly, she rises to her feet. She puts the letter back where she found it, and carefully she begins walking out. Mary Margaret will be waiting and will be worried. No need too, though. The structure still stands. The walls are up again.

They’ll be stronger this time.


	4. Chapter 4

_Charming loved Snow's long raven curls during their time in FTL. One one of their rare "fights" threats were thrown about having said hair cut short, to Charming's horror. Back in SB, MM and David just finished their joint shower... MM remembers how David used to comb her hair for her. She asks him if he misses it._

Snow leans back against Charming as he lifts the towels to her skin, drying her lower back while kissing her shoulder. Her skin still feels warm from the shower and the shower activities (very enthusiastic ones, in fact) and she sighs happily as her husband continues to lovingly dry her.

As he reaches the nape of her neck, he pauses for a moment. His fingers toy idly with her short hairs there, and she remembers the way he used to braid his fingers in her long hair. He would comb it too, before bed, often turning it into something sensual. She even threatened to cut it once during a ‘fight’, the most dire mock threat she could think of to counter his about never wearing leather pants again.

“Do you miss it?” she asks.

“What?”

“My hair as it were in the Enchanted Forest.”

It’s not just the hair she’s asking about, she knows, and knows he will know that too. It is everything. Their land, their castle, their first months of marriage when everything seemed so promising and they were so impossibly young.

“Sometimes,” he admits, his breath brushing her skin as he leans forward and kisses short hairs at her back. “Do you?”

“Sometimes,” she echoes, turning to regard him. He is different from then too. He may not have the radical difference in haircuts she has, but his eyes are older. Time has touched them, just not in years.

He nods slightly, then leans forward and kisses her while the towel falls to the ground. At least that hasn’t changed. Her hair may be shorter, his eyes may be older and they both may carry new scars both inside and on their skin; but Charming still kisses Snow with true love’s kiss, and she kisses him right back with the same.


	5. Chapter 5

_The Charmings celebrate their wedding anniversary_

“Charming,” Snow says in a voice he’s long since learned to recognize as oncoming trouble. “Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see,” he says softly, chuckling as she balls her hands into fists to keep from fidgeting with the scarf he’s got tied around her eyes. She’s not too patient, his wife, and he loves her for it even if he also mocks her gently for it sometimes too.

“Here,” he says, pulling the truck up. To her credit, she manages not to rip the scarf right off, but instead sits in the seat until he comes around and helps her out. Carefully, he leads her step by step until he has her right where he wants her.

“Wait,” he whispers as she reaches for the scarf. “Close your eyes.”

She makes an impatient sound, then stands still as he carefully unties the scarf and lets it fall. “David?”

“I know it’s not the same lake or the same land,” he whispers against her ear. “But I did the best I could. Open your eyes.”

She draws a sharp breath, then does as he asks. He watches her face keenly as she takes in their surroundings; a small lake, greenery as far as the eye can see and a flower arch he’s constructed.

“Happy anniversary, Snow,” he says gently and she shifts her gaze to him.

“It’s…” she breathes.

“Not quite how we got married, I know,” he says hurriedly. “I couldn’t recreate our first wedding exactly…”

“Charming, shut up,” she says affectionately, pulling him close and tip-toeing to kiss him. Her kiss is soft, and he finds himself smiling as she pulls away. As silly as he felt doing all this, it suddenly seems all worth it. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says

“Happy anniversary,” she says, and kisses him again, and again; the flowers move softly in the wind and even if his mother isn’t watching them this time, Charming still thinks she would smile at this just as she did their wedding.


	6. Chapter 6

__

_Charming family fluff, Henry being overprotective of his Grams_

“Henry,” Snow says sternly as her grandson looks up at her with a guilty yet defiant expression. It reminds her so much of Charming it throws her for a moment.

“I’m not sorry,” Henry says. He looks at the dagger Snow is holding and avoids her gaze, so she kneels down to look him in the face.

“Henry, this is a dangerous weapon.”

“I know!” he counters. “But I couldn’t carry Gramps’ sword so I had to take the dagger.”

“Why did you have to bring the dagger at all?”

“Because Emma and Gramps aren’t here,” he says as if that’s obvious.

Oh, she thinks. It’s been months since Greg and Tamara took Henry, but she knows traumatic childhood events can take years to heal, if they ever do.

“I’ll protect you, Henry,” she says gently.

“I know,” he says, lowering his head. “You would protect me against anything. You’re Snow White. You’re a hero.”

“So why the dagger?” she asks and his gaze when he looks at her is half Emma, half Charming and all Henry.

“So I could protect you too,” he says.


	7. Chapter 7

_Snowing; the first time they feel the baby kick_

She’s carrying a child.

Of course, she knows she is pregnant very well; she’s known it since Doc confirmed it and even before then, she was pretty sure. It’s even pretty obvious that she’s pregnant to the whole castle since Charming has been walking around with the happiest and dazed expression she’s seen outside of Happy and Dopey, and is overprotective to the point of adorable annoyance to boot.

So pregnant, yes. But it isn’t until this point she’s realized, truly realized, that she is carrying a child. A child now kicking against her stomach and the hand she is resting there. Her daughter. Her daughter is alive in there.

“Charming?” she whispers.

“Mm?” he murmurs sleepily, then bolts upright in bed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, taking his hand and pressing it to her stomach. He stares at her in confusion for a moment, and then, then the baby kicks again.

His lips part soundlessly and she watches his face and the myriad of expressions crossing it. He stares at his hand and her stomach as if he can hardly believe it, as if it is the most wonderful thing in the world that their child is alive inside her.

“Snow,” he says thickly.

“Yes,” she agrees, smiling at him as he looks up at her. His fingers entwine themselves in hers, but his hands stay on her stomach and she knows it will linger there the whole night now.

And everything is, for this little moment in time, entirely right.


	8. Chapter 8

_Snow entertains Henry for the day while Emma and Charming are working at the station. Either an actual scene of Snow and Henry, or Charming or Emma coming home to find the disaster/cuteness later._

“Let’s go through this one more time,” Emma says in her best I-am-the-sheriff voice, and gives Mary Margaret and Henry both a stern glance. David is no help next to her. Granted, he’s leaning against the pillar with his arms folded disapprovingly, but whenever she looks away, he seems to be smirking just a little too much.

“I’m sorry,” Mary Margaret offers meekly, but Emma doesn’t buy that for a second. Mary Margaret was meek at times, yes, but her mother is not and especially not since she seems to be trying to hide a smile every time she looks at Henry or David as well.

“I’m sorry too,” Henry pipes up.

“I trusted Mary Margaret to look after you today,” Emma says. “But I trusted you to behave yourself as well. So I ask again, why is there an arrow embedded in the door, a wooden sword in my toaster and a lot of apples that look like they’ve been used for target practice?”

David barks out a laugh and she glares at him until he composes himself to attempted stern again. It fails spectacularly five seconds later when Mary Margaret looks at him, and the two idiots actually smile at each other.

“What is so funny?” Emma asks sourly.

“Not funny,” David says gently. “Well, okay, your mother training her grandson in the way of banditry is pretty funny. But Emma, you’re…”

“What?”

“You’re being such a mother,” Mary Margaret says softly and David nods. So does Henry, the little traitor.

“And he’s the son of Prince Charming and Snow White,” David continues. “We’re just teaching him what we know. This is how we look after him, Emma. And how we look after you.”

Shit. Now she can’t even be mad at them. It’s all she can do just to keep her composure.

“Okay,” Emma says after a moment. “Bring me a wooden sword and the nearest apple and I’ll show you proper banditry.”


	9. Chapter 9

_Family fluff, Henry being upset he won't be in his Grandmother's class anymore since he's moved on a year_

Henry sits on the bed forlornly, shifting the completed birdhouse back and forth in hands. It's not going to change anything, he knows. The birdhouse is complete. The school year is done. He'll be moving up a grade and getting a new teacher.

“Hey Henry,” Gramps says from the doorway. He's leaning against it casually, and Henry wishes he knew how to do that and still look cool, like a prince should. “You were quiet at dinner. Everything all right?”

“No,” Henry admits. 

Gramps nods, then walks over to sit down next to him on the bed. “Is it about school? Are you going to miss your friends during the summer holidays?”

“It's not that,” Henry says. He looks at the house again. “Next year, I'm not going to be in Grams' class anymore.”

“No, you're not,” Gramps agrees. “It's okay if you want to feel sad about that.”

“She gave me the book,” Henry says, and Gramps puts an arm around her. “I felt like she was the only one who actually saw me.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Gramps says softly, smiling as if remembering something. But Henry? She doesn't have to be your teacher to see you.”

“She doesn't?” Henry asks hopefully.

“No,” Gramps says firmly. “She was never my teacher and she saw me. She saw Emma. Even if Mary Margaret will be someone else's teacher now, it will only be you that has her as a grandmother. If you ask me, that's even betterl. And if we go downstairs right now, I promise you she's going to look at us both and know we want hot cocoa.”

So they do and Grams does know; and she looks at Henry and smiles, and Henry finds that maybe being the grandchild is better than being the pupil after all.


	10. Chapter 10

_Snow and Charming. Their first time._

Sometimes, when she was a little girl, Snow would think about princes and love and marriage beds in the certainty that all that would come to her and that her mother would be there to guide her through everything. It would be proper.

Then her mother died. Then Regina lived to become the Evil Queen and Snow didn't think about anything but survival for a long time. Until the prince found her (and found her again) and love claimed them both and now, now Snow is about to claim Charming and Charming about to claim Snow for the first time. 

The mattress is soft beneath her as he presses her into it, kissing her again as she moans softly. What little she has gleamed from listening to the maids has prepared her a little for what she knows happens between man and wife, but it hasn't prepared her for how it feels. How Charming's skin feels against hers, how his fingers and his mouth feels on her skin, how her breasts are cupped so perfectly in his hands, how her body seems to want to press against him of its own volition, how she wants something from him she can't put to words. 

How hard he grows in her hand when she curiously reaches out to touch it and he makes a growl at the back of his throat. 

“Snow,” Charming says intently, his voice husky. She looks at him, seeing some of the same insecurity she feels on his face as well. Oh. So this is his first too. 

“I know it is going to hurt a bit,” she whispers and he nods, drawing his thumb across her lips. Strangely, she can feel his hand hesitantly go between her legs. She draws a quick breath as he touches her there, and another. 

“Is it...?” he asks.

“Mmm,” she manages. It is good, almost too good, and the noises that come out of her as he continues surprises even herself. He watches her face intently at every move he makes, as if trying to map her pleasure for the future. To her surprise, the pleasure seems to mount and mount, and she's panting and writhing underneath him. She wants, she wants, she wants and she isn't even sure what but when he presses his fingers hard against her she knows it's exactly that and she whimpers his name as her body takes over. He presses his forehead hard against hers and steadies her, but she still feels afloat in everything. 

Oh, she thinks distantly as she regains her senses. This must be why the maids liked to talk about this so much. 

She's going to have to try this on him later, she decides, using her hands. She even heard a maid whisper about using the mouth once. She always imagined everything would be so proper, but somehow, Charming makes her want to be indecent. 

He leans forward and kisses her as he adjusts himself between her legs. She tenses a little, but as he sucks on her bottom lip, she relaxes more and more. Then suddenly he is inside her and she is gasping at the sharp pain and the unfamiliar sensation. He's inside her, hard and large and holding still. As she watches his face and the sweat on his forehead, she knows that is costing him a great deal of willpower.

“Are you...?” he asks, closing his eyes for a moment as she shifts underneath him. 

“I'm fine,” she assures him. The pain has faded, and as he starts moving slowly, she finds the unfamiliar sensations are even partly pleasurable. She can see the pleasure on his face too, as his pace quickens, and she looks forward to map those for the future too. 

He finally collapses against her, his body shuddering against hers. She kisses his collarbone as he breathes into her shoulder, and she finds herself smiling against his skin. This is the marriage bed, then. Skin and body and a shepherd come prince, and the love so much more than what she imagined as young. This isn't proper at all.

This is better.

(And will become even better yet, she learns, as Snow and Charming map each other and settle into the marriage bed properly.)


	11. Chapter 11

_Snow and Charming discuss her one-night stand with Dr. Whale_

“Why did you sleep with him?” Charming asks, sitting down on the bed next to her. His tone isn't accusatory, isn't angry, and the slight jealous she knows he feels is masked fairly well.

She sighs. She supposes she knew sooner or later this would come. Not because Charming holds it against her. No. Because Charming will want to understand and wants nothing between them. Not even this.

“Why?” Charming asks again and Snow sighs, looking down at her hands. Of all the questions her husband could ask her, this isn't one she isn't looking forward to answering. Not because she doesn't know the answer; she does. But because the answer will hurt him.

“Because David Nolan hurt me,” she says brutally honestly. “He gave me hope when I was trying so hard not to have it, and then he he stayed with his wife after all. He broke my heart. So that night Dr. Whale offered to buy me a drink and I accepted. I just wanted to feel... Like I was someone worth choosing. He chose me that night.”

She looks up at her husband, as expected, he does look hurt. David Nolan hurt the woman Charming loves, and she knows that pains him even more than it pains her. He's whispered it into her skin often enough, even if she doesn't hold it against him. This was Regina's curs, to trap Charming in David Nolan.

“I thought it may be something like that,” he says distantly, and his eyes are sad as he attempts a smile. “I don't blame you.”

“I know,” she agrees. 

“I'm sorry,” he says after a moment. “I punched him while you were away. I'm not sorry about that, though.”

She chuckles softly, then leans up to kiss him. He kisses her back eagerly, pulling her onto his lap and pressing his forehead against hers as she breaks the kiss. 

“I broke your heart too,” she says, remembering the look on his face as she told him she didn't love him. “You still loved me, didn't you?”

“Yes,” he breathes. “Even when I didn't think you loved me, I loved you more than life.”

“David Nolan broke Mary Margaret's heart, but she still loved him,” she says softly. “That's why Dr. Whale was a one-night stand and just that.”


	12. Chapter 12

_Snowing - first morning waking up together after getting married_

Growing up on a farm, David is used to waking early. It is almost embedded in him, this sense of morning about to break, no matter how deep he sleeps.

Or who he sleeps with, he realizes, sensations of a warm body next to his beginning to make themselves known as he slowly wakes up. Clearly, his mind cares nothing about how late he stayed up the night before with the fair-skinned temptress now known as his wife, and thinks it's time to wake up either way. 

Snow, he thinks and opens his eyes. She is still sleeping, her long dark hair spread across her naked back as she lies on her stomach. Her hand is draped across his abdomen, and her body pressed against his side. Every now and then she makes a noise as she sleeps, with her breath steady and slow. 

He hasn't seen her sleep before, but he's going to for the rest of his life now, he realizes. He's always going to wake before her and he'll always wake to this, to her. 

Carefully, he leans forward and kisses the side of her head. Snow. His wife. This will be his morning from this day on.

“Charming?” she murmurs sleepily. “Is it time to get up?”

“No,” he tells her gently, shifting even closer to her. “You can sleep a while longer.”

She makes a soft noise of agreement and then sleeps on while he watches, smiling at the sight of something far more beautiful than any dawn.


	13. Chapter 13

_a mother/daughter moment between Snow and Emma_

The wind is strong, and Emma lets it tear at her. It feels almost cathartic, the wind howling when she cannot. She has to be strong. She has to be strong for Henry and save Henry. She has to.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret says gently, appearing at her side. Emma knew it was only a matter of the time before one of her parents would come to her, and then the other after. “We are going to find him.”

That's them, Emma knows. Her parents always find each other, and she found them and they believe in all that. She wonders if they've also considered that means they always lose each other too, because she isn't sure she could take more loss than she has already suffered.

“We'll find Henry,” she agrees instead. 

“You're thinking about Neal,” Mary Margaret says after a moment and Emma closes her eyes. Strong. She has to be strong for Henry.

“He let go,” Emma says, feeling the words like sharp daggers cutting into her. “So Henry would have at least one parent.”

“Oh, Emma,” Mary Margaret says gently, pulling her into a hug. “He did the right thing, you know. He put his child first. As you do.”

“As you did?” Emma asks, remembering what she read when she finally looked at her parents' story in Henry's book. They were going to be separated for her sake. 

“Yes,” Mary Margaret says, pride and sadness tinging her voice. “As we'll always do.”

Henry, Emma thinks. She's going to be strong for Henry. Neal let go for Henry. She has to hold on. And she will. 

“Mom,” she whispers, feeling the tears flow as Mary Margaret hugs her closer. And so, Emma Swan lets herself be the daughter for a while – before she has to be Henry's mom again.


	14. Chapter 14

_snow and charming having another child_

“Push!” the doctor orders, and Snow grips Charming's hand hard as she does. Her nails dig into his skin and he wishes he could take more of her pain, all of her pain – and all of her fear too. He knows she remembers another childbirth, another child and what they all lost then. Even if there is no curse rolling in now and nothing that threatens, fears aren't particularly good at listening to reason. He knows; he's tried to reason his own fears ever since Snow told him she was pregnant again.

“One more push,” the doctor urges gently.

“I love you,” Charming whispers as Snow leans back against him. Maybe he shouldn't be in the bed with her and holding her, but screw it. He's going to be as close to her as he possibly he can, as he always wants to be. 

“One more,” she whispers, and he nods. She grips his hand and digs her fingers into his skin as she pushes, and pushes, and pushes. She cries out, as a tiny wail joins in too.

Oh. Oh oh oh oh. He can't think of anything to say, can only breathe as his wife falls back against him, and the doctor smiles up at them both. 

“Congratulations,” he says, as one of the nurse gently lifts up the bundle and carries it over. Gently, it's eased into Snow's arms and Charming presses his forehead against her temple as they both look down at what she's holding. Their baby. Their child. Their second child. 

“Charming,” Snow says thickly as he puts his arms around her and the baby both. The wail fades, the baby blinks and goes quiet. 

“I know,” he says, not sure what else to say. He kisses Snow's temple, and then, very carefully he leans down and kisses the forehead of his son. Very soon, they're going to introduce this child to the best big sister in the world and the most complicated family tree this side of biology, but right now he just wants to hold his wife holding their son – and have nothing else happen.


	15. Chapter 15

Snow is being sick and Charming takes care of her

She's warm. Too warm, and the cool cloth against her forehead isn't much help at all. She still leans into it, seeking whatever relief she can.

“Snow,” a familiar voice says gently and she forces her heavy eyelids to open. Yes. Charming. He is smiling gently at her, his worry almost masked but she can still catch a glimpse of it in his eyes. 

“It's just the flu,” he goes on reassuringly, probably to himself as much as her. “Emma called me when you practically collapsed in the kitchen. Dr. Whale was here earlier.”

“What's the doctor's orders?” she murmurs. Her head hurts. She hopes she didn't scare Emma too badly by collapsing.

“Strict bed rest,” he informs her sternly, shifting into bed next to her, though above the covers. She stares at him in confusion. 

“I don't think he meant for you,” she murmurs, as Charming changes the cloth to another one and wipes her forehead again. She sighs happily as the coolness of it.

“No. he told me to avoid contact so I wouldn't be exposed,” Charming says. “Luckily I outrank him as a prince so I changed the order to strict bed rest for me as well, along with nurse duty.”

She laughs weakly. “Nurse Charming.”

“Yes,” he says softly, kissing her burning forehead. “And after you get better but must still stay in bed, we'll play nurse till your heart's content. Until then, how does chicken soup and company sound?”

“Perfectly charming.”


	16. Chapter 16

_Grandpa Charming having to give Henry The Talk_

“And that's when....” David falters and Henry look at him expectantly. “When... When the bee pollinates the flower after having been very nice to it and kissed it a lot first.”

“Okay,” Henry says slowly. “What do the bird and bees have to do with what you and Grams do when you rest? Emma said that's what you wanted to talk to me about.”

Shit, Charming thinks. This is clearly Emma's revenge for walking in on them yet again – delegating the birds and the bees talk to the grandfather who only has David Nolan's distant grasp of the metaphors involved and Charming's far more practical approach. 

Actually... Maybe it's better to do this the Charming way.

“They have nothing to do with it, Henry,” he says decidedly. “Birds and bees are just how adults talk about it because they like stories. How about you and I take a drive?”

II

“Hey mom,” Henry says, walking into Emma's room with a smile and dumping down on the bed next to her. “How was work?”

“Good,” she replies suspiciously. “How did the talk with David go?”

“Good,” Henry replies casually. “We went to a farm. Mom, did you know when a boy sheep loves a girl sheep very much like Gramps loves Grams, he's very nice to her and cuddle and then they have sex?”

Okay, Emma thinks distantly. Maybe it's time _she_ had a talk with David.


	17. Chapter 17

_(FTL) not yet married Snowing. They are @ a party and are dancing, but they know they have to change partners: it's the rule. So when this happens, some very important royal asshole tries to make a move on Snow. Snow tries to be polite while refusing him and all but it doesn't work and when he makes a very BOLD move on her, Charming notices that, sees read, deals with the asshole and run off to the garden to try and cool off. Snow goes after him, calms him down and then they dance under the stars_

“I'm not sure that is the best way to gain allies for our fight against King George and Regina,” Snow says drily behind him, and David turns around to see that his fiance has joined him in the garden. Even without the candles of the ballroom illuminating her, she looks radiant in starlight.

“He was feeling you up, Snow,” David replies darkly, remembering the royal asshole pressing Snow far too close even after she had politely told him off again.

“You didn't have to punch him,” she comments, gliding up to him. “At least not in the middle of the dance. We are here as Abigail and Fredrick's guests.”

“Fredrick will understand,” he says, as Snow puts a hand on his folded arms. “Actually, so will Abigail.” 

“I didn't say I didn't understand,” Snow comments, looking up at him through lowered eyelids. His breath catches. 

“I just wanted to dance with you,” he breathes, lowering his hands to her waist and pressing her against him. 

“The dance requires partner change, you know that,” she replies, but her breath catches as he leans down and kisses the exposed skin just above the intricate chestpiece of her gown. 

“I know,” he sighs. “I'm just...”

“My hotheaded fiance?” she suggests and he chuckles. “You know what I was about to do when you punched the idiot?”

“What?”

“Knee him. It's more discreet, but just as efficient.”

He laughs, and she pulls him down to kiss him possessively and hotly. He sighs into it, feeling his anger crystallized into something else, but something that will have to wait for now. Instead, he cups her cheek as she pulls back to look at him.

“Dance with me?” she suggests.

“And what does this dance require?” he asks.

“Just you,” she replies and he smiles at her as their hands link and he puts his hand on her back. They dance like that, just Snow and Charming in just starlight, and he thinks it more splendid than all the balls in the land.


	18. Chapter 18

_Charming being overprotective when Snow was first pregnant_

The part about not wanting her to ride, Snow can understand. The extra pillows in their bed all for her are similarly understandable, since the pregnancy gives her a backache from time to time. The extra guards she can also see the reason for, since Regina's threat still looms over them and seem even darker now that they're going to have a child. All these things make, even from her perspective, a certain sense.

But this, this she's having trouble understanding at all.

“You're sleeping on the floor,” she repeats, staring down at the pile of blankets her husband is currently looking up at her from sleepily. 

“Yes.”

“You wait until I've fallen asleep, you make a bed on the floor and then you wake up before dawn to crawl into bed with me again. And you would have kept doing this for weeks if I hadn't woken up tonight.”

“Yes.”

“ _Why_?!”

He sighs. “I just thought... Without me in it, you have more bed to sleep in. Less chance of falling out of it.”

“Charming, I've never fallen out of bed in my life and I am not about to start now,” she says sternly, holding out her hand and beckoning him to join her in the bed again. Carefully, he eases in next to her and puts one hand around her and one on her stomach.

“I just want you to be safe,” he says, and she suddenly remembers that all the family Charming has had before, he has lost. Like her. They've made a new family together, one that will be growing. One he wants to protect, and twice over now. 

“I love you,” she tells him softly, because she cannot promise him any of them will be safe. She can only promise him that she loves him – as their daughter will also – and hope that that will be protection enough. 

(It isn't, as it turns out.)


	19. Chapter 19

_emma and neal are together again, charming finds out and punches neal_

He should have seen this coming, Neal reflects. Emma's father tolerated him well enough as Henry's father, for Henry's sake, but as the man dating the beloved daughter (again) – that's another matter.

So Neal should really have ducked when he saw it was David at his door. But he didn't, and the punch connected with his jaw rather painfully. 

There is just one, and not as hard as Neal suspects David could manage if he wanted. 

“You hurt her,” David says firmly. 

“I know,” Neal acknowledges. He touches his jaw, assessing the damage. Yeah, it will definitely leave a bruise. “She told you we're dating again?”

“No,” David says. “I saw you two kissing last night and Snow convinced me not to barge out with a sword to disembowel you.”

“And this morning?” Neal asks drily.

“I am still considering it,” David says, putting his hand son his hips. “You left her once.”

“I am never leaving her again. You can punch me as many times as you like or come at me with a sword. I'm not leaving her.”

“Good,” David says curtly, and Neal looks at him with surprise. David shrugs. “If Emma chooses you, if she truly wants you... I'll respect that. But if you want me to respect you, you earn it.”

“Fair enough,” Neal says. It is, after all. David is, like his daughter, upfront and clear on where he stands. He keeps his word, and that is something the part of him that knows what a deal broken can do to a boy very much respects. “Next time I'll duck.”

David shakes his head. “No next time. This time, don't hurt my girl or I won't be settling for a punch.”

“Deal,” Neal agrees; he intends to keep that and knows David certainly will.


	20. Chapter 20

_snow and charmings first kiss_

“Snow!” the voice says in surprise, and Snow looks down to see the man she has tackled is in fact not one of Regina's soldiers hunting for her. No.

“Charming!” she exclaims and the prince in question does smile cheekily up at her from underneath her body. She can see his horse nearby and she realizes she hasn't been discovered by Regina's men as she feared. She's been rediscovered by Charming. 

“We should stop meeting like this,” he jokes. 

“As I recall, you tackled me last time,” she points out. 

“True,” he acknowledges. “Does that mean it's my turn to knock you out?”

Already feels like he has, she doesn’t say. Instead she gets to her feet and offers him a hand. He watches it for a moment with something she can't quite identify, but does take it. He doesn't let go even after he's on his feet, holding her hand while looking intently at her.

“How are you?” he asks softly.

“The Queen hasn't caught me yet,” she tells him as merrily as she can imagine. 

“But you haven't escaped her either,” he points out. She shrugs, but she imagines he can see the truth of it well enough in her face.

“Speaking of escaping evil – how's the arranged marriage?” she asks and he chuckles.

“Still arranged,” he says, his gaze seems to almost caress her face. She feels breathless from it, especially as his gaze falls to her lips. “Snow...”

She just breathes, and she can see his chest rise and fall as his breath quickens. His hand is still in hers and this thumb is moving slowly across her skin, and she finds it a strange thing that such a simple caress could feel so overwhelming. 

“Charming,” she breathes and that's when he makes a noise at the back of his throat and pulls her to him. But it's her who tip-toes and brushes her lips against his first, feeling strangely bold and afraid at the same time.

This isn't the polite kisses of courting noblemen and princes, she realizes quickly. His lips are soft, yes, lingering against hers at first. But then his lips are tugging at hers insistently, and she can hear herself make an unfamiliar noise. She parts her own lips slightly, his bottom lip pushing her upper lip up further as he brings his hand to her cheek. He tilts his head as he pulls her even closer, and this, this she now knows is kissing.

“James?” a voice calls, and Charming pulls away from her abruptly. He's panting as he regards her. 

“King George,” he says in a low voice, and she realizes this is a stolen moment that reality has just reclaimed. “I'm not sure he wouldn't hand you over to Regina. I should...”

“Go,” she agrees, and looks down at the hand he's still holding in hers. 

“Snow...” he says again, the longing in his voice so palatable she almost tells him to stay for a moment. But arranged marriages is the reality of princes and princesses; she knows. (At least she thinks she knows. She doesn't quite dare to think that she might not know at all.) 

“Go,” she tells him again, freeing her hand from his grip and turning around. She can feel his gaze on her for a moment longer, and then he is gone and she – she thinks she might be a little lost.


	21. Chapter 21

_snow and charming finding out when they conceived emma_

Snow sighs contently, leaning back against Charming's chest. His hand is resting on her stomach, and he's making slow circles on her skin with his fingers. She smiles at the unconscious gesture. She told him she was with child just two days ago, and he's already quietly affectionate towards the child growing inside her.

Charming the father. That's going to be him, she knows. That quiet affection, that patience, that always loving presence that he's become in her life will be the same in their daughter's life. 

He kisses the top of her head, then her nose as she tilts head head to look up at him lovingly. 

“I saw the midwife today,” she tells him.

“Everything all right?” he asks, suddenly alert. 

“Yes,” she says and he relaxes visibly. “She estimates that I am seven weeks along.”

He nods, kissing her softly before suddenly pausing. “Seven weeks?”

“Mmhmm,” she confirms, trying to keep her lips from turning upwards too much. 

“But that's when...”

“Mmmhmm.”

“So this child was conceived when we....”

“Mmm _hmm_.”

Charming breaks into a grin, and she can't hold back her own smile anymore. In fact, it turns into what she knows must be a rather ridiculous grin but one that Charming seems to love as he kisses her enthusiastically. She leans into it, the desire to sleep fading rather quickly and being replaced by something else. 

He pulls back after a moment, rubbing his nose against hers. 

“That week at the dwarf's cottage was very...” he trails off.

“You were bored out of your mind, Charming.”

“That's not what I was out of my mind because of,” he says huskily and she gives him a look through lowered eyelids. 

“You managed,” she points out, thinking about his hands and his mouth on her skin and her legs wrapped around him while biting into his shoulder to keep quiet. 

He grins at the memory. “I think we better tell the dwarfs you're eight weeks along and not seven.”

“Mmm _hmm_ ,” she agrees, and pulls him down for another kiss; he manages quite well this time too, as it turns out.


	22. Chapter 22

_emma tells henry about neal's death_

Emma Swan is used to being hurt. She's had a lifetime of it, after all, getting so used to it that it feels strange to now have people who wants nothing more than to never see her hurt again. She can carry hurt. Even losing Neal, she will be able to carry just as she carried losing Graham. She can carry it. She is used to it.

Henry isn't, and yet now he has to. He has to carry losing his father and she has to be the one to put the weight on him. She can carry her own pain. Carrying his too – how she will ever manage that?

So as she approaches her son, Emma feels her steps falter.

“Henry!” she calls and her son looks up at her. Happily at first, then his face falls as he notices her expression. She must have been unable to mask it completely, she realizes. 

“What's happened?” he asks. 

“Sit down,” she tells him, and he does. She sits down next to him and puts her hand on his shoulder, wishing she could do anything but what she is about to do. “Henry...”

He is shaking his head already. “Just tell me.”

“Neal was shot and fell into a portal,” she manages, watching her son's face crumple and it feels like her heart falls apart as well. “I'm so sorry, Henry.”

He leans into her as she puts her arms around him, steadying him physically and wishing she could steady him in every way. 

“It's not fair,” he sobs and she fears her own eyes tear up. No, it's not. No, it's really not. Not fair on Henry. Not fair on her. 

In the corner of her eye, she sees her parents walk over while Gold seems to have vanished. Carefully, David and Mary Margaret both sit down next to her.

“We're so sorry, Henry,” Mary Margaret says. David takes her hand and nods, looking at Henry with the gentle eyes Emma has grown so used to over the last few weeks. “But we found your mom.”

“We did,” David offers and Henry looks up. Emma can see the relief and grief both on his young face, and she leans forward to kiss his forehead gently. 

“Can I see her?” Henry asks and they all nod.

Maybe this is how she'll manage, Emma thinks. She's used to carrying her hurt alone and have it only be hers. Now she carries Henry's too, and David's and Mary Margaret's – but she no longer carries the hurt alone. They're all there with her, sharing the weight. 

Maybe they'll both be able to bear it, Henry and her. As a family, with their family.


	23. Chapter 23

_I saw you wrote a ficlet about Snow and Chamring discussing the one night stand. I was wondering if you could write one where they discuss David's relationship with Kathryn._

“I saw Abigail today,” Snow says and Charming looks up with a slightly guarded expression, as if he's expecting to fight dragons.

“Oh?” he manages. 

“We talked a bit,” she says, and Charming sighs and comes to sit next to her on the bed.

“I ran into her a few times while you were away,” he says carefully. “She and Fredrick found each other after the curse broke. They seem happy.”

“I never liked her back in our land,” Snow reveals and Charming glances up at her. “I pretended to but a part of me always remembered that you almost married her.”

“Snow,” he says affectionately. “You pretended to very badly. I knew. Abigail knew. But she had as little desire to marry me as I did her. If we had married, it would have been... It would have been like the fake marriage Regina trapped me and Abigail here in Storybrooke.”

She looks at him as he takes her hand, lifting it up to kiss the finger where she wears his mother's ring.

“David Nolan and Kathryn Nolan had a miserable marriage,” he says, grimacing slightly at his own words. “Even when we were trying to fix it... It never mended the gap between us, it only masked it for a while. Even cursed, we never truly loved each other because we both had our true loves elsewhere.”

“She said something very similar,” Snow says with the ghost of a smile. “But it hurts to know you were with another woman, Charming. Even if it was the curse. I don't blame you, I just...”

“I know,” he says softly. He lifts a hand to her cheek and moves his fingers lightly across her skin. “It hurts me to know you were with Whale too, even if you were cursed. I don't blame you. Especially not since David Nolan broke your heart. He also hurt another woman I greatly respect as well.”

“Abigail,” she says. She sighs and leans her forehead against his chin. “She told me she gave David and Mary Margaret her blessing even before the curse broke, and that she definitely gave it now.”

“You're still not going to like her, huh?” he teases and she has to grin at how well he knows her. 

“No,” she admits. “But she's making it really hard for me, at least.”

He grins, and she leans forward and impulsively kisses him. He sighs at the touch of lips to lips, catching her bottom lip between his to lightly suck on it. It is her who sighs happily as he deepens the kiss, feeling his thigh press hard against hers. 

When he finally pulls back, she is a little breathless and he's looking at her with so much love that steals her breath as well. 

“You are my true wife in any land,” he vows and kisses her again, and she kisses her true husband of any land right back.


	24. Chapter 24

_AU Snow, Charming jealous that baby Emma seems to like Snow better_

His daughter is so perfect Charming often thinks he was a fool to want a boy (the other times he simply wants a boy too. Emma is _Emma_ , such a mix of him and Snow it is simply breathtaking. He often watches his little girl crawl across the floor to mommy and finds it the loveliest sight in the whole land.

Except – except it is always Snow that Emma crawls to. He sits on the floor also, inviting his daughter to come to him, but she never does. She smiles at him, but it is Snow she goes to. 

Of course he loves how much his daughter loves Snow, and especially loves how motherhood looks on his wife. But he's also jealous. He never thought he would be jealous of his own wife, but here he is, wanting what she has. Wanting Emma to come to him too, to be daddy's little girl and not just his daughter. 

He doesn't tell Snow that, but he can see she knows from the looks she gives him. So he isn't entirely surprised when one morning, she puts Emma down on the floor of the nursery and then quietly slips out. 

Emma looks perturbed as she looks around and doesn't see the familiar sight of her mother. For a moment, he is almost tempted to call Snow back, but instead he sits down and waits.

Emma looks at him. He smiles at her and she carefully smiles back, sucking at her thumb. 

“What do you want to play with today?” he asks. The room is stuffed with all the toys he and Snow could get their hands on, spoiling their child before it was even born. 

Emma narrows her eyes, then looks at the dragon he picks up.

“This one?” he asks. “You want to be Emma, mighty dragon slayer, savior of this land?”

She makes a happy noise that he takes as a yes. He holds the dragon out, and his daughter gives him another speculative look. Then very, very slowly she crawls across the room and to him. But it isn't the dragon she goes for. It's him, pulling at the laces of his leather shirt. He watches in fascination as she pulls at them, bites on one and then looks up at him.

“It's okay,” he tells her, smiling again. “You can play with those if you want.”

So she does. 

And when Snow returns some time later, she finds her daughter in her husband's arms, the two of them engrossed in each other – the loveliest sight in the whole land, she reckons.


	25. Chapter 25

_Snow tells Charming about king George's curse a few months before they have Emma_

Even though the birth is still months away, they've picked a room for the nursery. It is empty for now, but very soon they will start filling it with everything a baby might want to be happy. (Since said baby will be making the parents happy as can be just by coming into this world.)

If she closes her eyes, Snow can already see what it might look like. She can imagine shelves of toys, the crib, a mobile moving softly in the wind and Charming leaning over to watch his daughter and never tire of it. Yes. She can see it as she closes her eyes, and she can also see what it is missing. 

The doting grandmother that would have been here too every day, that should have been here. 

She feels Charming's arms come around her from behind, and she leans back against him. He kisses the top of her head as his hands stroke her stomach gently.

“What's wrong?” he says softly into her hair. “Are you worried about Regina's threat again?”

Always, she doesn't say. She knows the lengths her step-mother will go to, and she fears for this child and her husband both. 

“I wish your mother could be here,” she says instead. 

He sighs. “I wish it too, Snow, but the waters couldn't heal her. We did what we could.”

Just then, the baby kicks and Charming makes the noise he always does when it happens, something between wonder and disbelief. 

“She would have loved this child,” he says wistfully.

“She did love this child,” she says. She doesn't want to hurt Charming, but here in this room, as his hands rest on something that wouldn't be possible without his mother, he deserves to know. “Charming, there is something you should know.”

“What?” he murmurs softly, kissing her cheek.

“The water would have healed her, but she never drank it. She made Lancelot put it in the wedding chalice instead.”

“What?” he says again, this time in confusion. 

“King George had put a curse on me so that I could never bear children. His revenge against us both. Ruth found out. She wanted me to drink the water, but I wouldn't. So she tricked us into thinking she had drunk it.”

She turns in his embrace to see that he has closed his eyes, a pained look across his features. She touches his cheek as a single tear streaks his skin, brushing it away with her thumb.

“I'm sorry,” she says gently.

He opens his eyes to look down at her swelling stomach. “She always wanted this for me. Family. Happiness. True love. I just didn't understand how much she was willing to sacrifice for me.”

Maybe he will understand all too well one day, Snow thinks distantly, as he lowers his forehead against hers. He rests his hands on her stomach where their child is growing to soon make them both parents – and make them both understand.


	26. Chapter 26

_A little Snow and Regina moment after the wedding, earlier in their relationship. Snow is genuinely sweet and loving. Regina is (unwillingly) moved to some tender feelings towards the little girl. I'd prefer it ends on an "up" note but since Regina has been written so unevenly this season, I can understand if she goes back to her ridiculous vendetta._

Daniel, Regina thinks with a shudder, bolting upright in bed. It takes her a moment to realize it's a dream (another one) and that she is her bed in the palace. It almost makes her want to return to the dream, as this is a living nightmare that she is in.

Daniel is gone. She is the Queen. Everything her mother wanted. Nothing she desired.

“Regina?” a soft voice asks and she looks to the doorway to see Snow White standing there. Young Snow framed in light from the hallway, in a white nightdress that makes her live up to her name. 

“I'm fine,” Regina says curtly, but Snow steps into the shadows of the room nevertheless.

“I have bad dreams sometimes too,” the girl confesses. “About my mother dying.”

She's always so willing to share, this girl, Regina thinks bitterly. If she had known that before, perhaps she would have known better than to entrust a secret with someone who couldn't keep it. 

“I'm fine,” Regina says again, but Snow comes to sit on the bed anyway. She smiles hesitantly. 

“I wish I knew what kept bad dreams away,” she says forlornly. 

“There are worse things,” Regina observes.

“Like what?”

“Not being able to wake from them.”

“Oh,” Snow says, and Regina almost wishes Snow could know what it is like to live with so much loss and regret that you can't wake from. But just almost. 

“Go to bed, Snow,” Regina says tiredly, but the girl shakes her head.

“I'll stay here,” the girl says softly, but determined. “I'll make sure you wake up if you have another bad dream.”

Oh, Regina thinks faintly, as Snow moves into the bed next to her. In another life, in a dream, she might have imagined Daniel and herself having a daughter somewhat like Snow. Yes. If she closes her eyes, she can even imagine this is that dream, that life, that her daughter is sleeping next to her because she doesn't want her mommy to have a bad dream.

Yes.

She closes her eyes with Snow's hand hesitantly in hers and lets sleep come; she doesn't have another bad dream that night.

(But waking up, that may take decades, a curse and another child to accomplish for Regina – only time can tell on that.)


	27. Chapter 27

_a drunk Charming causing problems aboard the Jolly Roger harharhar_

Her husband being drunk isn't a new sight to Snow as such. It has happened on occasion (after she told him he was going to be a father, when the dwarfs took him to a tavern, when Red and Granny took him to a different tavern, and so on) back in their land, and once or twice in Storybrooke.

But it still isn't a sight she was expecting to see on the Jolly Roger in Neverland – and especially not with her daughter in the same condition, sitting on the deck and trying to sing a rather bawdy song Charming has apparently taught her. 

(Okay, maybe they do have some reason to celebrate, Henry being safe back with them – but they still have the rather serious problem of how to return home to tackle. Honestly, she's only left them alone for a few hours while it was her watch with Henry, and this is what she finds?)

Hook is watching them, looking half amused and half sad at the amount of empty bottles strewn around.

“They got into the rum,” he tells Snow. “Been at it for a few hours. Drove Regina off first with bobbing for apples in rum suggestions, then Gold with a lot of questions about how to look after glittery skin. Your charming husband best replace that haul of alcohol. How am I going to be a respectable pirate without a stash of rum?”

“You have far too much fun being anything but respectable,” Snow counters, as Charming looks up and spots her.

“Snoooooooooooooooow!” he says delightedly. He manages to get to his feet, walking towards her with the most ridiculous grin. She crosses her arms as he reaches her.

“You're drunk,” she observes.

“Yes,” he agrees easily. Hook's got gooood rum. Still not mate, but good rum.”

“Good,” Emma agrees. She looks down at the bottle in her hand. “Why's the floor moving?”

“Because it's a deck and you're on a boat, darling,” Hook says and Charming lifts finger. He has to aim a few times before he manages to point it sternly at Hook.

“My daughter. Not your darling,” Charming says, then turns to Snow again with his finger still lifted and looks down at her with an expression that manages to be both hazy and lusty. “Snow's my darling. Darling Snow. Snooooow.”

He pokes her nose with his finger before dragging it down her lips, her chin, her neck and the exposed skin of her chest until he reaches the top of the pirate's shirt she has on. Very slowly, he pulls at the cloth with his finger. 

“Charming!” Snow says sternly, but he simply grins. 

“Liked that last night,” he says cheekily, but luckily in a low enough voice that Emma can't hear. 

“Go to bed,” Snow tells him, putting her hand around his finger and lowering it before he can make his intentions even clearer than they already are from the way Hook is looking at them. “I'll get our daughter to bed, then I will find you.”

“You always do,” he says with certainty, then staggers unsteadily below deck. 

Emma is luckily in the stage of drunkenness where she doesn't mind being led, and so Snow manages to take her daughter to bed with only minimal trouble. Henry is sleeping as well, and Emma gulps loudly when noticing her son. 

“Told dad I was afraid,” Emma mutters, and Snow looks up. 

“What?”

“Lost you,” Emma says slowly and each word over-pronounced, as if overcompensating for her slightly slurred voice. “Lost Neal. Lost Henry. Henry found me. Lost Neal again. Lost Henry again. Found Henry. Don't want to lose you again.”

“You're not going to,” Snow says warmly, kissing her daughter's forehead. “We won't let that happen.”

“That's what dad says,” Emma says. She closes her eyes. “Said a lot of things. Then taught me lullabies.”

“Didn't sound like you were singing a lullaby when I joined you.”

“Ran out of lullabies.”

“Ah,” Snow says, as her daughter closes her eyes and drifts off. Lullabies, fears and rum. Hmm. A suspicion is beginning to dawn on her.

She walks into the cabin she and Charming are sharing to find her husband sprawled across their bunk with his eyes closed. As she approaches, he lifts a hand and grabs hold of her, pulling her down to be sprawled across him. 

“Mmmhmm,” he says happily.

“Charming,” she says, as his hands roam her body lazily. “Just how drunk are you?”

He smiles, but his eyes remain closed. “A bit.”

“A bit drunk and a lot acting,” she concludes, drawing her hand across his chest. “Why?”

He sighs, then opens his eyes to look at her. “Because after everything she has been through, Emma needed someone to get drunk with and just... Let go for a bit.”

“With you there to catch her?”

“Always,” he vows. “Even if I have to drink Hook's whole stash of rum to do so, I'll always be there for her.”

She just nods faintly. Oh, how she loves him. She always does, but in moments like this it hits her all over again like anew, almost overwhelming her. Charming. Loving, patient, always there Charming, who drinks rum with his daughter to be there for her in every way he can.

As she looks at him, he lifts his head and kisses the side of her neck, moving his mouth upwards to her ear and murmuring a few lines from the bawdy song against her skin. 

Yes, Snow decides, feeling his finger pull at the top of her shirt again and not stopping it this time. 

Yes. She'll give him something to sing about all right.


	28. Chapter 28

  
_Snow and Charming celebrating Snows birthday for the first time_

Counting down the days to their birthday is something Snow thinks most normal people do. She does it as well, but for an entirely different reason.

She dreads this day. Oh, she has explained to Charming she doesn't want a celebration, explained it over and over, but she isn't sure he truly understands. And then there is everyone else, who have only heard her wish about not wanting a birthday celebration and not the reason why, and thus might just think it fake modesty and arrange something after all. 

She doesn't blame them either. They'll want her to have a happy day, like birthdays should be. They can't understand that it never will be. This will always be the day she lost her mother, and nothing can change that.

So when the day arrives and she is woken by a gentle hand on her shoulder, she immediately fears the worst.

It's Charming, putting a hand to his lips as she looks at him. The room is dark and the light from the windows still faint, telling her it must be before dawn. 

“Charming, what...” she starts, but he puts the finger to her lips now.

“Shhh,” he says softly. “Just trust me.”

With her life and with her heart, she doesn't say, just nodding faintly instead. She gets up, noticing the clothes and cape he's put out for her. It's not a gown, but a lovely riding outfit, making her realize whatever this is about, it is not a party. He is dressed somewhat informally as well, she notices, as he helps her get dressed.

He takes her hand as she finishes, leading her out of the room and through the quiet hallways to the kitchen. Johanna is there, smiling a little sadly. 

“It's all ready, Your Royal Highness,” she says to Charming, who smiles.

“Thank you, Johanna,” he says solemnly, squeezing Snow's hand. “Grumpy knows where we'll be if something comes up.”

Johanna nods, leaning forward to hug Snow quickly. “Have a good day.”

Snow just nods, not quite trusting her voice. She follows Charming as he tugs at her hand, leading her to the back entrance and then outside. Two horses wait there, packed up and saddled. Without a word, Charming helps her up on one and then mounts the other and they set off.

The sun starts to rise as they ride, coloring the sky and the clouds in vivid shades of yellow, orange, red. It's a beautiful sight, and Snow lets herself enjoy it as she follows Charming. He clearly has a destination in mind, leading her into the forest until they finally reach a small cottage.

“It belonged to a shepherd my mother knew,” Charming tells her as he helps her off the horse (though she doesn't need it, it's still nice to slide down into his waiting arms). “After we took back the kingdom, I bought it off him. He needed the money and I thought it might come in handy one day.”

“For what?” she asks, as he keeps his arms around her and looks at her intently.

“For privacy. For today,” he says and she sighs.

“You know what today is. I don't want...”

“This isn't a birthday celebration,” he says quietly. “This is just you and me and a day out in the forest with no one else around. Johanna packed food for us. We'll sleep here and tomorrow we'll return to the castle and that will be a day like any other.”

“Charming...” she says, not finding the words. He might not understand her unwillingness to celebrate her birthday, not fully, she thinks, but he is willing to honor it. And yet he is trying to make this a good day, a happy day or at least the best day it can be.

“I love you,” she manages instead and his lips curve into a smile as she leans froward and kisses him. Softly at first, but it soon turns into something far more passionate and breathless as she links her hands behind his back and he lifts her up. 

Her mother would have loved him, Snow thinks distantly. Yes. Her mother would have loved him because he loves her so much, because this is true love and happiness and all a mother could want for her daughter. 

In fact, her mother might even have considered it the best birthday gift her daughter could ever get.


	29. Chapter 29

_Snow and Charming think about what Emma will be like in the days after she's born_

Emma sleeps and Snow doesn't, watching her daughter with unwavering attention. Not out of fear – that was the first day after the birth as she kept waiting for Regina to strike at their child somehow, but nothing happened – but rather out of wonder.

This little child is their baby, her and Charming's. Their daughter. 

Their impatient little daughter, Snow can already tell from how the baby cries when she wants food. Emma has that from her mother, since Charming has far more patience. But the temper, that might come from him. 

This is going to be a headstrong, impatient girl you don't want to anger, Snow thinks fondly. Yes. She can see that already. It probably won't be made any better by the fact that Charming will spoil his daughter and raise her as proudly as he would a boy, and probably let her do the same things.

Fight. Ride. Master a sword and a bow both, Snow and Charming's daughter.

“You sneak out of our bed during the middle of the night,” Charming says softly behind her. She hasn't even heard him come in, Snow realizes. She leans back as he wraps his arms around her. “I would be jealous of this new love of yours if I didn't love her also.”

“Mmm,” she agrees. “Don't think I didn't see you sneak out of our bed last night.”

“Caught,” he admits, smiling as he kisses her temple. “Hello, Emma.”

Their daughter makes a soft noise in her sleep, clearly impervious to her parents gawking at her in awe. Maybe that's going to be their daughter also, Snow thinks – unaware just how loved she really is, even if they'll do their hardest to show her. 

“She sleeps just like you,” Charming observes fondly. 

“And wakes just like you – far too early,” she counters. He chuckles.

“I grew up on a farm,” he says, but without any shame. He might be the prince now, but he was raised a shepherd. And so Emma will be raised a princess and a shepherd's daughter both, and Snow hopes it will keep their daughter grounded. 

Most of all, she thinks she wants their daughter to have them both. Charming lost his father, she lost her mother, and both felt the loss of a parent acutely. Emma shouldn't have to – will not have to if Snow can help it. Emma will have a mother and a father both, and they will love her through all the years they may have together. 

“What are you thinking?” Charming whispers against her ear. 

“About Emma's life,” Snow replies softly, lacing her fingers in his. 

“I thought about that too,” he says, and she isn't surprised. Charming has wanted this child so much she expects he started thinking about that the moment he learned they were going to have a baby. “I want to give her the world and keep her safe from it at the same time.”

She chuckles, knowing exactly what he means. “I think the best we can do is give her what she'll need to deal with the world.”

“Yes,” he agrees, and she turns slightly to kiss the underside of his jaw. “Love most of all.”

“Love most of all,” she agrees, knowing very well what the lack of love can do. And whatever else Emma's life might bring her, she'll always, always be loved.


	30. Chapter 30

_Ok, Cam, this is a challenge! AGAINST MEGAN LOL I want you to write about pregnant Snow and Charming swimming or entering the water in a lake and a single baby duck leaves its family to near them until it touches Snow's stomach softly with its beak (I guess all animals like and know Snow so it doesn't fear her at all) and Emma kicks in response. I need Snowing reactions to this too XD Sweet sweet atmosphere *____*_

The water is cool as Snow submerges herself in it, sighing softly as she does. Yes. Perhaps Charming was right and this is the perfect way to cool down on this hot summer's day. The heat certainly hasn't helped with the pregnancy, as she's beginning to show now for sure.

Charming dives into the lake a few feet away from her, breaking the water and then emerging further ahead. He grins at her as the water darkens his hair and clings to his skin. It's impossible not to smile back, and she swims towards him until she's close enough to touch. 

It is he who reaches out and tucks a few strands of her now wet hair behind her ears. She treads water as he leans forward and kisses her, still with his lips upturned. 

“Love you,” he murmurs, not waiting for a reply before kissing her again. She's pretty sure he can feel the sentiment returned as she kisses him back, though – of course, she's even more certain he already knows from how the look in his eyes when she looks at him with all the love she couldn't hide even if she tried to. 

She leans her forehead against his as they break the kiss, feeling wonderfully relaxed. 

“Look,” Charming whispers, and she shifts position to follow his gaze. They're not the only family here, she realizes. A duck with her little baby ducklings are also enjoying the lake, swimming across. As she watches them, one baby duck looks up and makes a soft noise. 

She holds out her hand, and the baby duck swims towards them until she can feel it come to rest in her palm. 

“You and birds,” Charming says affectionately. It's another thing she loves about him – how easily he loves all parts of her, even the one who can communicate with birds and might raise eyebrows elsewhere. 

The baby duck makes another noise, then dives and brushes against her stomach. For a moment she thinks nothing much of it, then she feels it. The baby. The baby is kicking, and she grabs Charming's hand.

“What?” he says, suddenly alert, then his lips part as she puts his hand on her stomach and he feels it too. “Snow...”

“Yes,” she says, tears in her eyes. “Our baby just moved.”

“Yes,” he agrees and the happiness seems to radiate from him as much as the heat does from the sun. Even if he thinks this is a son, she know she'll love this daughter more than anything. 

He pulls her against him as much as he can while still treading the water, then kisses her enthusiastically. The baby duck seems rather bored by this display of human behavior, Snow notes, swimming back to its family.

“I guess our baby is a bit of a bird person as well,” Charming says a touch breathlessly against her lips, as she draws her thumb across his cheek. 

“At least a duck person,” she corrects, brushing his upper lip with her lower. 

“Ducks it is then,” he murmurs, kissing her nose softly. 

She might not be able to foresee the future, but she does know him – and thus, of one thing she is certain. One day, Snow thinks, as her husband caresses her stomach and kisses her lips, he's going to take their daughter to see the ducks.


	31. Chapter 31

_Emma and Hook hook up and Snow finds out and confronts Emma_

The knock on the cabin door isn't entirely unexpected, and Emma simply opens without comment to let Mary Margaret in. In a way, she's glad it's not David, but in another way, the worst person to walk in on her and Hook kissing might just be Mary Margaret.

Her mother, but also her friend before that, who knows her far better than David and thus might ask far more complicated questions.

Sure enough, the first one is about the worst one Emma could imagine. 

“Why?” Mary Margaret asks, and Emma sighs.

“I don't know,” she answers honestly. “I know he's... He's Hook and he's trouble and you probably have a million reasons why he's all wrong and probably at least half of them I'll agree with, but... I don't know. It doesn't feel wrong.” 

Mary Margaret sits down in Emma's bunk, her face a mix of emotions Emma can't quite decipher. She almost wishes her mother would yell at her. This composure she isn't sure how to deal with.

“Emma...” Mary Margaret finally says. “I won't pretend he is the man I would have chosen for you.”

Emma sighs, and sits down on the bunk also. “He's not the man I would have chosen for me either. But whenever I chose someone, it always seemed to end badly.”

“You're thinking of Neal,” Mary Margaret says softly, and takes Emma's hand. 

“Him too,” Emma says, and tries not to think about being let go of twice. “Do you remember you once told me my walls might keep love out?”

“Yes,” Mary Margaret says, smiling a touch sadly. 

“You were right. I kept Graham out. When Neal returned, I kept him out too. It seemed right, yet it didn't do any good,” Emma says slowly, feeling the dull ache of past hurts. “ If I am going to get my heart broken either way, at least I can let the walls down and have something good too. I don't know what this... This thing between me and Hook is. Maybe it will end as badly as everything else seems to, but...”

“Maybe it won't,” Mary Margaret says, squeezing Emma's hand. “And if it does... Your father and I are going to be here for you for whatever you need, including going after a pirate.”

Emma chuckles, looking up at her mother. “I bet David would enjoy that.”

“He would,” Mary Margaret says affectionately. “But if this... Thing, as you call it, turns out to be right for you, David will still love you. Hook will never be the man your father would choose for you, but it's your choice that matters, Emma. We'll love you regardless.”

“I thought you were going to yell at me,” Emma confesses, feeling strangely light and almost happy. 

“I shouted at the pillow for a few minutes,” Mary Margaret confesses, smiling guiltily. “Then I went and yelled at Hook. I'm sorry.”

“Don't be,” Emma simply says. Somehow it feels right that her mother would shout at the man who stuck his tongue down her throat, even if it was with encouragement. (And she did the same to him, to be fair.) “You know those walls I mentioned?”

“Yes?”

“You're inside them,” Emma says, looking down at where their fingers are entwined. “Both you and dad.”

“I know,” Mary Margaret says achingly softly. “So does he.”

“I do,” David agrees, and Emma looks up to see her father leaning against the doorway with his arms folded. “Everything all right here?”

“Yes,” Emma says, feeling Mary Margaret look at her. It is all right. 

“Right,” David says, looking not the least bit reassured. “You wanna tell me why your mother yelled at the pillow and then at a certain pirate?”

Uh oh, Emma thinks – and yet, somehow this feels right too, with her father looking ready to fetch his sword any minute for his daughter's sake. It is right. It is all right, because even if this is another wrong choice for her, she is going to be all right, she knows. She has her family to make sure of it this time. 

(And maybe, just maybe, the one she wouldn't have chosen, the one who looks all wrong – is the right one.)


	32. Chapter 32

_Charming comforting Snow after a nightmare (FTL)_

She wakes with a soundless cry, feeling as if she can't breathe, as if the heat is pushing all the air from her body, as if the flames are caressing her skin, as if she's trapped, trapped, trapped...

“Hey, hey, hey,” a voice says gently, and she feels cool hands on her arm and then her shoulder. “Snow?”

It's Charming, she realizes, leaning over her with a worried expression that she can make out even in the darkness of the room.

“You had another nightmare,” he says. It's not a question, but she still nods. “I had hoped they had stopped by now.”

“They will,” she reassures him, reaching out to touch his cheek. She tries a smile, but she can feel it falter. Her breath feels too rapid still, and her heart seems to pound in her chest.

“They will,” he says with more certainty – or perhaps he merely fakes it better. “Was it the same one?”

“Yes.”

He sighs, then pops himself up on an elbow and lets the other hand caress her earlobe softly. “Tell me about it.”

“Flames,” she says, shivering even if it isn't a cold night and the covers are warm. He leans down and kisses her shoulder as she continues. “It's a burning room and the flames are reaching for me.”

“They can't touch you here,” he says, as he always does. He kisses the side of her neck and she lets out a slow, shuddering breath. 

“There is no way out,” she continues, as his hand moves up and down her arm. “I'm trapped.”

“You're free of it now,” he whispers, kissing her temple. 

“You're not there,” she says, feeling the words and the memory like a sharp pain in her heart. He is her heart, after all, just as she is his. 

“I'm here,” he counters gently, cupping her face with both his hands. She looks up at him, feeling his gaze on her like an anchor. Faintly, she nods, and then he kisses her. Softly, caressing her lips with his own more than anything, and she closes her eyes and lets herself just feel. 

This isn't a burning room. This is their bedroom. There are no flames. There's only the heat of their bodies. She isn't trapped; she can wake up, and does wake up every time. 

And Charming, Charming's with her. She can feel it, feel his body against hers, feel his lips brush hers as he kisses her leisurely. This isn't a nightmare. This is what she wakes up to, this is her life with her husband that has just begun. 

This is going to be happily ever after, she thinks; at least, that's the dream she clings to.


	33. Chapter 33

_Charming has problems moving around an unfamiliar palace. Snow takes him on a tour and ends up leading him to her private garden (like a hiding spot of hers when she was little) via a secret staircase. Maybe they take advantage of the privacy they have outside their bedroom? (;_

Palaces, Charming has come to conclude, are clearly meant to keep its ruler(s) in good mental shape by being outright mazes. Okay, maybe it's the shepherd in him used to one simple building that finds so many hallways a challenge, but surely they are meant to be navigated without a guide. Even if it is just the second visit.

Yet here he is, being led around the palace by hand, Snow's hand as it is her palace. She walks it as securely as she did the forest, as she now does their palace, and he rather thinks she always finds a way to make herself a home wherever she finds herself. He doesn't adapt as easily, but he's beginning to think the only thing he needs to be home is her hand in his. 

“And that was the kitchen,” she says softly. “Next time you want to make me breakfast, maybe you won't get lost on the way.”

“Don't count on it,” he mutters and she smiles. “It's very easy to get lost in this place.”

“I always found it hard to hide in this place,” she says softly, clearly remembering something from the past. 

“Did you want to hide often?” he asks curiously, squeezing her hand lightly.

“Not often,” she says distantly, as if she is only half here and the rest of her is reliving something a long time ago. “At least not when I was very young. As I got older and the crown got heavier to carry...”

He nods. He may not have been raised a prince, but he's learned a lot about the burdens of a crown in the time since he was forced to replace his brother. 

“I had one place,” she says suddenly, her attention returning to him. “Come.”

With that, she tugs at his hand and he follows her through hallways, trying to keep track of the direction and failing. Eventually, they come to a staircase that he only realizes is that when Snow removes the tapestry. 

They step into a garden completely enclosed by high walls, though not roofed in so the darkening sky is visible. The garden itself shows clear signs of not having been tended for a long time, but the wildness of it somehow fits Snow, he thinks. It is beautiful as it is, plants growing wild and flowers covering what was once a path.

“This was my mother's,” Snow says. “She took me here when I was a girl. My father didn't know of it. No one else did either. So this was where I came to hide.”

“It's beautiful,” he says as he steps closer. “Thank you for showing it to me.”

This is Snow sharing another piece of her life, he knows. This is her hiding spot, but now she's ensured he will always find her here if he wants to. She's not hiding from him.

“I love you,” she says simply and hearing it on her lips still makes his heart skip a beat. As he smiles, she links her hands behind his neck and pulls him down for a kiss, capturing his lips with hers. He parts his lips as she tugs insistently on them, and her tongue brushes his as he presses her closer with his hands on her waist. 

He feels breathless when they finally break the kiss minutes later, and he realizes he's somehow backed her back against a wall covered by ivy. 

“So no one can find us here,” he says, swallowing as he watches her chest rise and fall as she breathes. 

“What do you propose we do about that?” she whispers huskily, her breath brushing his lips as he presses his forehead against hers. 

“This,” he says; and kisses her again as he lifts her up and presses her more firmly against the wall. 

(Palaces, Charming later concludes, are clearly meant to be mazes, but that's all right. That just means it's possible to happily hide in them – oh so very happily, in fact.)


	34. Chapter 34

_Prompt with 4 hints: 1. Charming is in a reunion focused on taxes, peasants' needs and so on and he is in the castle with Snow but very far from where she is now; 2. Snow craves Charming because of stupid pregnancy hormones and fights this need to no avail; 3. a bluebird lands in front of Charming alerting him of a very simple message - "I need you"; 4. Charming runs to Snow and she gives him an amazing blowjob that leaves him unsteady on his feet and her with a very satisfied grin. THANKS!_

Sometimes, Charming thinks that taking back a kingdom might be easier than running a kingdom. There always seems to be a meeting, or a council, or something somewhere that requires his presence but not his input. Not really.

On the face it, taxes and the current economic situation for the peasants would seem an important topic. If only they were discussing that, instead of discussing exactly what qualifies as a farmer. Listening to nobles debating if their vegetable gardens mean they are farmers too and should have say just makes him slightly irritable. 

What makes it even worse is Snow. Yes, Snow, his beloved pregnant wife that he feels an urge to be with every minute of the day now. It's not just that he enjoys being in the presence of their child that is growing inside her (even if it isn't too visible yet). It feels like a start of an another adventure too, and adventures are best had with Snow.

Then there's also the matter of his wife's appetite – for him. Not that she's ever been particularly restricted in that regard before, but the pregnancy seems to have heightened her cravings. 

Right. Best not to think of that, he decides, just as he becomes aware of the bird. It's watching him, tilting its head, and he knows right away it's one of Snow's. Making sure no one seems to be looking in his direction, he holds out his hand and the bird flies over. Sure enough, there is a message attached – for all Snow has tried, he hasn't mastered the bird tongue yet.

His heart skips a beat the minute he spots the message. It's simple, to the point and very, very Snow in its directness. 

'I need you.'

“Gentlemen,” he says, and the nobles glance up at him. “I fear I have an urgent matter to attend. Perhaps we can pick up what constitutes a vegetable at some other time.”

With that, he strides out with as much commanding presence as he manages. The moment the doors shut behind him, he practically runs through the castle to get to their bedchamber. 

“Snow?” he calls as he enters. There is no answer. “I got your message, are you...”

Hands go over his eyes from behind, and something presses against his back. It's Snow, he realizes. Snow, breathing rapidly close to his ear in a way that makes his hairs stand on edge. 

“Charming,” she says, her voice low. He has an urge to turn around and press her against the nearest wall to kiss her firmly, but instead he simply waits to see what she'll do. 

She tip-toes to press a kiss against the back of his neck, and he parts his lips in anticipation. But she doesn't move to kiss him. Instead she lowers her hands, taking his hand with one of them and leading him towards the bed. 

He follows, sitting down on the edge of the bed as she looks at him, and then pulling her onto his lap. She smiles faintly as he angles his head to have his lips close enough to hers to feel her breath. 

“You needed something?” he asks. 

“Mmhmm,” she says, as he brushes his lips against hers so featherlight it's hardly a touch at all. 

“You weren't very specific in your request,” he goes on, lifting a hand to cup her breast through the think cloth of her dress. “You need me for what, exactly?”

“To sit right there,” she says, grinding her hips downwards to make him moan softly. 

“And...?” he prompts.

“Just that,” she says, sliding off his lap. He watches as she pulls a pillow down between his legs before kneeling on it, and looking up at him with a gaze that leaves him as breathless as her clear intention. 

“Snow...” he manages to say. “You don't have to...”

“Oh, but I want to,” she says and he gulps. “How does it feel when you use your mouth and hands on me, seeing the pleasure it gives me?”

“Wonderful,” he gasps, as one of her hands finds the waistline of his pants and the other strokes the bulge in his pants. 

“Exactly,” she says, smiling up at him with bright, bright eyes. He watches, completely captured, as she undo his pants expertly and pushes them down below his hips. She pauses there, just watching for a moment before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the skin just above his underwear. 

If his breath wasn't already shallow already, it sure would be now. He digs his fingers into the bed covers, knowing trying to relax is rather hopeless Especially as her fingers are now pulling at his underwear and before he knows it, there are no more cloth barriers. 

She takes him in her hands firmly, but not too hard. He swallows as she draws her hand up and down the length of him once, just once and agonizingly slowly at that. Then he can't hold back the moan as she presses a kiss to the tip of his manhood, and then parts her lips over it.

“Snow,” he moans. “Snow...”

The only response he gets is her mouth moving down lower, as far as she can manage before moving slowly up again. The feeling of her mouth on him lures a number of undignified noises from him, he can faintly tell, but he doesn't really care. Screw dignity, though he'd much rather screw Snow. 

As she continues, it's all he can do to focus on his breathing and try not to drown in the pooling of sensations in his head. He peeks down at her sometimes too, the image of her on her knees between his legs thrilling him as well. 

Her tongue circles the head as she pauses, her hand lightly pumping him at the base. That's what finally defeats him, and his whole body jerks as he comes. He's left panting as Snow rises to her feet again, walking over the basin. She leans herself and sips some water, and he simply watches. He can see her smile as she finishes, a satisfied grin that makes him smile to.

He pulls his underwear and pants back up, and manages to walk over to her, if somewhat unsteady. She leans back against him as he puts his arms around her.

“I guess you had me,” he says, and she laughs before turning her head and meeting his kiss. She tastes of clean water as he deepens the kiss, drinking her in greedily. 

“I'd like to make a reply,” he murmurs breathlessly. against her lips. “I need you.”

“For what?” she says, and he moves his hands down to her hips and thinks about all the wonderful things his hands on her skin might do. 

For everything, he doesn't say. To feel alive, to feel like Charming, to have a heart, since she's claimed his. 

“I can't say,” he says, and her breath catches as he lowers his head to suck on a spot by her collarbone. “I think I'll have to show you.”

So he does; more than once, in fact.


	35. Chapter 35

_Okay since you are doing prompts and you are so nice about doing some of mine before. I need you to write about Snow telling Charming about what Gepetto did. Since we didn't see it on the show I want to know Charmings reaction. Thanks_

Snow nestles closer to him and lays her head on his chest, and Charming kisses the top of her head lovingly. Her breath steadies as he listens to it, drawing his hand slowly up and down her back while enjoying the feel of her skin and her presence.

She feels closer tonight, after she told him about going to Regina and the state of her heart, after she let him in. Her fear and depression has seemed like an abyss between them the last few days, and he's tried so hard to be patient and just be there for her until she was ready. 

Now he can truly be there with her and for her as she finds her way out of the dark. He knows she will; she's Snow.

“David?” Snow asks, lifting her head and looking at him. 

“Yeah?” he says softly, pausing his hand on her lower back. 

“There is something else I wanted to tell you,” she says quietly and sadly. “It's about the wardrobe.”

He frowns. “I thought I fixed the shelves.”

“No,” she says, pressing her hand against his chest. “The wardrobe that took Emma.”

In a flash, he remembers it as he gently eased Emma into it. What saved their daughter and took her away from them at the same time. The wardrobe. 

He swallows. “It took two?”

She gasps. “Yes! How did you know?”

“I didn't,” he says slowly. “I wasn't sure, at least. But I remember Geppetto's boy Pinocchio. Today he was as old as a man before the Blue Fairy gave him new life as a boy again. He couldn't have aged here. None of us did.”

“You're right,” Snow says slowly. “Geppetto carved the wardrobe on the condition that Pinocchio be sent through as well.”

David closes his eyes. In a flash, he imagines easing both Snow and Emma into the wardrobe. He can see himself tell them goodbye, see Snow's heartbreak at leaving him but joy at having Emma. He can see himself claimed by the curse with a smile that they got away. And 28 years after, he can see himself embrace Snow and watch his grown daughter, and see that they have 28 years together rather than 28 years apart.

“David?” Snow says, and he opens his eyes to see Snow look at him with tears in her eyes.

“You could have gone with her,” he says, and she nods while swallowing. “I'm so sorry, Snow.”

He is. Sorry even more than he is angry, which is also substantially. On one hand, as a father, he can understand. But still...

“Or you could have,” she points out and he draws a sharp breath at that. He didn't even think of that. 28 years away from Snow, but with Emma. 28 years with...

“Or if Emma had come later, we could have gone together,” he says, and Snow closes her eyes. He can practically see her imagine as he does. “We could have raised Emma together.”

“Seen her first steps,” Snow says, her eyes still closed.

“Heard her first word,” he says, closing his eyes as well. Yes. He can imagine it, imagine the baby look up at Snow and try for mama. 

“Woken up by her crying too many nights,” Snow goes on.

“I'd sung her back to sleep,” he murmurs. All the lullabies he knew he would gladly have given Emma every night of his life, and invented a few too if it made her sleep. 

“Until she would be old enough to come into our room and demand bedtime stories instead,” Snow says, the sorrow in her voice almost staggering him. 

“She would have been just like her mother,” he says gently, leaning down to kiss Snow's face blindly, feeling the salt of her tears as he does. “Going for what she wants.”

Snow makes a noise that seems to be a sob and a laugh both. “You would have taught her how to ride, and she would probably have enjoyed it more than the balls. She would have been just like you too.”

He swallows. For a moment, they say nothing, both too lost in the images. Then slowly, Charming opens his eyes and touches Snow's cheek with his hand. Her eyes open too, revealing tears and heartbreak.

“We didn't go with her,” she says quietly. “She grew up alone.”

“She has us now,” he says, biting back the anger that he feels over how Emma grew up. The anger he'll always feel, he knows, but it won't help anything. 

Snow nods slowly, and he kisses her gently. What could have been won't help. What they have now is what they have to make a future of. 

And yet – for one moment more, Charming lets himself imagine that this is their bed in their land, that their baby is sleeping in her nursery and that 28 years haven't been lost. 28 years are waiting, Emma growing into them with her mother and father right there. Yes. He can imagine it, he can see it. 

Then he lets it go.


	36. Chapter 36

_Charming telling Emma a story from his childhood while on the boat to Neverland._

A farmer is not meant to sleep on a boat, David is pretty sure. The boat keeps rolling softly, something he got used to deal with while walking, but finds far more troublesome while trying to sleep.

Snow is already sleeping, curled up against him with a hand resting on his chest. The movement of the ship doesn't seem to bother her, or perhaps she is simply too exhausted to care. It's been a long day for her too, he knows. A very long day for them all, and yet he can't sleep.

Gently, he kisses his wife's forehead, then very gently her lips before easing out of the bunk. Snow makes a soft moan of protest, but doesn’t wake. Quietly, he finds his clothes and heads out on deck.

It's a starry night, but the stars are all unfamiliar to him. An unfamiliar sky over an unfamiliar land, this Neverland. Yet as long as his family is here, there is nowhere else he'd want to be.

He's not alone, he notices. There is a lone figure standing by the stern of the ship, looking towards land. Emma. 

He walks over slowly, coming to stand next to her. He says nothing, in case silence is what she wants. He just stands there to let her know she is not alone, and that he's there, should she want it.

“Did you ever camp out?” Emma suddenly asks. He looks up at her and she glances down. “Sorry, I just... Henry had been asking to go camping with me. He wanted to sleep under the open sky, but not without me. I'm just... Wondering how he's doing.”

“I know,” he says softly. “He's brave, Emma.”

She nods, but she bites her lip too. “I should be there with him.”

“I got lost once,” David says after a moment, and she looks up at him. “I was about the age Henry is now. We'd lost one of our lambs in the forest. My mother and I were quite poor, so I knew every lamb was precious.”

“It's hard to imagine you as a shepherd boy,” she admits and he smiles easily. 

“I wasn't always Charming,” he jokes, and her lips curve upwards just a touch. “So yes, I was a shepherd boy and I went into the forest to find our lamb. I was terrified. There were wolves in the forest. There were even rumors the wolves had taken a boy and were raising him. But even as afraid as I was, I thought of my mother and went further in.”

She listens, clearly wondering where his story is going, but also really listening to him. Just that makes him strangely happy. It might be a little thing, to have your daughter listen to you telling a story, but it's something he's not had yet, which makes it a great thing indeed. 

“Eventually, I found the lamb,” he says. “She was afraid too, and shivering. It was getting darker, and as I carried her through the forest I realized it would be night soon. If I tried to find my way in the dark, I would probably get lost.”

“So what did you do?”

“I climbed a tree with the lamb and I sat there until morning,” he says softly. “I thought of my mother the whole time. When I found my way back in the morning, I was so proud I had saved our lamb and been brave. I felt like quite the hero.”

“I'm guessing you didn't get a hero's welcome,” Emma says drily.

“My mother gave me a very stern talking-to, telling me no matter how poor we were, I would always be worth more than all the riches in the kingdom,” he says softly. “I was so young, I didn't understand what she meant. I do now.”

“Oh,” Emma says faintly. Very gently, he puts a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

“Henry is going to think of you and feel brave,” he tells her. “He's going to get through the night. We're going to find him, Emma. In this family we do.”

“Mary Margaret told me something about you once,” Emma says, and he smiles at the affection Emma puts into her mother's name. “She said you taught her never to give up.”

He chuckles fondly, thinking of his wife. “She taught me a lot of things as well, trust me.”

Emma nods, glancing up at him. She seems less anxious then when he joined her. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For giving me someone to think about,” she says and leans against him. He holds her while they watch the stars in silence, waiting for the night to end.


	37. Chapter 37

_Cam, new prompt directly from Ginny's new EW pics! XD MM and David have never been together *in that sense* so Charming discovers MM's apple-shaped tatoo only after Snow comes back from FTL and they're alone while Emma and Henry are away. I'd like to see Charming a bit torn by the fact she's wearing the proof of her love for him on her skin and, please, come up with an excuse as for why MM has it! LOL Thanks! *____*_

It takes him a few moments to realize just what he’s looking at.

(In his defense, his mind is quite distracted. It is hard to think when he’s got his wife home, on his lap in their bed, her mouth on his neck and her hands working the buttons of his shirt. It doesn’t help that with her sweater finally out of the way, he has his hands on her naked back and the lace of her bra is brushing against his chest. Distracting. Wonderfully distracting.)

There is a tattoo on the inside of Snow’s arm. It was definitely not there the last time he saw her naked or semi-naked, that is he certain. He’s far too fond of touching or kissing her skin to have possibly missed that. It must be Mary Margaret’s, and yet the shape is all too familiar to him.

An apple.

“What’s this?” he asks softly, drawing his thumb across the ink buried in her skin.

Snow pauses, then lifts her head from his neck. She follows his gaze and for a moment, he can see Mary Margaret in her blush. Then she meets his gaze and there is all Snow in her defiance.

“A tattoo,” she says, making no excuses.

“I see that,” he says drily.

“Mary Margaret got it,” Snow says after a moment.

“Why the apple?”

She smiles sadly. “Mary Margaret never liked apples. She kept having dreams about choking on them. She always thought maybe it was a repressed childhood memory.”

“It wasn’t,” he says softly.

“No,” she agrees. They both know what it was. “But Mary Margaret believed that.”

“So why get a tattoo of something she didn’t like?” he asks. She smiles again, warmer this time.

“To defeat it,” Snow says. “To feel like she survived, to be brave.”

Charming nods slowly, still keeping his thumb lingering on her tattoo. A part of him almost wants to erase it from skin, take away what she endured to keep him alive. But instead he leans down and kisses the spot lovingly, the part of him that admires her bravery and loves, just loves how fiercely she loves too. Enough to willingly take a poisoned apple.

She watches him kiss her tattoo through lowered eyelids, he notices, her breath catching.

“You don’t hate it?” she asks.

“No,” he says softly. “I hate what the apple did to you, what Regina did to you. But what this symbolizes – your courage, your strength, your survival? How can I not love that when I love you more than anything?”

She cups his face in her hands, smiling down at him with so much love he feels almost humbled by it. She touches the scar on his chin softly, and he knows she feels something of the same about the mark she left on him. “I love you, Charming.”

As he leans forward to kiss her again, she pauses him with a finger on his lip.

“Did David Nolan get any tattoos I should know about?” she asks teasingly, as he presses a kiss against her finger instead.

“I could answer that,” he says slowly, moving his hands to her waist as he lowers her against the mattress, “but I have a much better idea. Find out for yourself.”

“I’d have to get you naked then,” she murmurs, and he smiles.

“Exactly,” he says, and leans down to kiss her.

(He doesn’t, as it turns out. But they have a lot of fun establishing that for sure.)


	38. Chapter 38

_AU Snowing and their first night with Emma putting her to sleep. (Based on when Snow said in 2x03 "you never even got to spend a night")_

Snow doesn't want to put her daughter down.

For the whole day, Emma has stayed in the arms of either herself or Charming. Neither of them really want to let go, as if fearing that if either puts her down, she'll gone. Maybe it's Regina's threats and the whispers of a failed attempt at casting a terrible curse. Maybe it's just first-time parent anxiety. Either way, they've held their daughter the whole day and not let go once.

Snow has found herself marveling at how Emma feels in her arms and how Emma looks in Charming's; and every time Snow has met Charming's gaze, she's known he feels the same way. Their daughter. This is their daughter, so long awaited and already so loved. 

And now, now it is night. They should put Emma to bed, they are putting Emma to bed. They're just finding it hard to let go. 

Charming's arms are linked around her stomach as Snow leans back against him with Emma in her arms. They're both watching the crib with the unicorn mobile above, as they have for what feels like an eternity.

Emma doesn't seem to mind. She's sleeping in Snow's arms as if that is all she needs, as if her mother's arms are far better than a royal nursery. 

“You need sleep, Snow,” Charming murmurs against her temple, pressing a soft kiss against it as well. 

“I know,” she murmurs back. “You do too.”

And yet, neither of them make a move. They just stand there, Emma making a few soft noises in her sleep. So tiny, their little daughter, yet she'll grow to a wonderful woman, and somehow, Snow doesn't want to miss even a second of it. Not even this first night. Not when it feels like they came so close to losing it.

Her husband seems to pick up on what she's thinking, as he so often does. 

“We can sleep right here,” Charming whispers into her ear. “I'll let us some blankets and pillows and we can stay in her nursery all night.”

She looks up at him, knowing he must see the love and the gratitude on her face, because his lips turn upwards. Softly, he kisses her. 

“I'll get us what we need,” he says, leaning down to kiss Emma's forehead gently. “I'll be back soon.”

Snow watches him slip out the door, hearing him give a few instructions in a soft voice to the servants outside. Probably they'll find the royals wanting to sleep on the floor of their daughter's nursery quite strange, but Snow doesn't care. Doesn't care at all.

“Emma,” she says lovingly, feeling the weight of their child in her arms. Their daughter. Their family. It is strange thing that happiness can feel so strong that it is almost unbearable, yet here she is holding it.

As Charming reenters the room with pillows and blankets, he gives her a soft smile and she nods. While he makes their bed, she finally leans over the crib. 

“Goodnight, Emma,” she says softly, kissing her daughter's forehead before lowering her into the crib – and their daughter sleeps on happily, unaware of how her mother and her father curl up in each other's arms on the floor next to her. 

Spending the night here is more for their sakes than Emma's, Snow knows. Their daughter is sleeping happily, oblivious to the world. She won't even remember this, this first night in her nursery.

But they will. And one day they can tell her about the first night she spent her and she'll laugh at her silly, overprotective parents – but know she was so wanted that her parents couldn't even let her go the first day or let her sleep alone the first night. 

Because to Snow and to Charming, Emma was all they ever wanted.


	39. Chapter 39

_Snow dreams about the moment she saw Emma for the last time as Charming took her to the wardrobe. She wakes up in a rage and runs to Regina's house to confront her for having taken Emma's childhood away from her._

(I had to change a few details of the prompt to be able to fill this - hope that doesn’t bother you too much, anon!)

A long time ago – a lifetime and a curse ago – she used to have nightmares almost every night. Always the same. Always the burning room. And always, always she would wake the same way, with Charming by her side looking at her with so much concern and love. He'd light a candle and ease her back to sleep with words and touches, and the nightmares would lose their powers. Eventually they vanished altogether. 

These dreams, the ones she's had since the curse was broken, they don't come every night, but still often enough. They are the same. They all have Charming holding Emma and a sword, giving her one last look before leaving. One last look at her daughter, and 28 years and a childhood is lost. And always, always then she wakes panting, feeling Charming's arms go around her while he simply holds her. 

There are no words to ease these dreams, and he doesn't try. He feels the same loss she does, she knows. And so, the dreams aren't losing their power. They almost seem to be gaining strength, as Emma grows closer to her parents and what they could have had becomes clearer and clearer. 

What they've lost. What was taken from them. 'Mom. Dad'. 

And so, she has the dream again on the Jolly Roger, as if what Emma said has given the dream even more power. She awakes with a sharp gasp, with Charming murmuring and drawing her closer in his sleep. He doesn’t wake though, and she carefully eases out of his arms. 

What was taken from them, she thinks again. A sudden resolve comes over her, fueled by pain and exhaustion. She wants the dreams to go away, make them lose their power and she can only think of one way.

With that, she walks out of the cabin Charming and her share and find Regina's, knocking sharply. It doesn't take very long before the door opens, revealing a Regina who doesn't look like she's had much sleep.

“You took Emma's childhood from us,” Snow says softly. “28 years, Regina.”

Regina looks more surprised than affronted. “Has it taken you this long to come to that conclusion?”

Snow ignores the sarcasm, knowing it's Regina's default. “I can't get it back. Emma found us and broke your curse, but you took something from us we'll never get back.”

“What is this, late-night guilt trip?” Regina says sharply, but for a moment Snow thinks that maybe, just maybe Regina looks affected. 

“No,” Snow says, feeling the exhaustion as if it's bone deep. “I just want the dreams about losing her to go away.”

Regina looks at her, then something in her softens. “Being angry at me won't make them go away. I was furious with you and I still dreamed of Daniel.”

Snow closes her eyes. She sways for a moment, leaning against the wall. 

“Henry,” Regina says suddenly. Snow opens her eyes to see the other woman look at her without any anger at all. 

“Henry?” she repeats. 

“Henry,” Regina says again. “After I adopted Henry, most of my dreams faded. He helped. After I found something, it was easier not to think about what I had lost.”

“Henry,” Snow says slowly, and thinks of her grandson. Emma's son and Regina's son in one, and the reason they're all here together. Henry. What they've found. Their common ground. 

“Yes,” Regina says, softly and lovingly. It's not an apology – if Regina will ever offer one, Snow isn't even sure. But it still feels like an acknowledgment, and that's a start. And it is all Regina has to give right now, and maybe will be for a long time. Whatever else Snow is looking for, she won't find it here. She'll have to find it elsewhere.

So Snow just nods, and with that she leaves and finds her way back to her own cabin. Charming is still sleeping, but sighs softly as she nestles against him. 

“What's wrong?” he whispers sleepily. “Another dream?”

“Yeah,” she admits, and he kisses her shoulder softly. “Charming? Emma called us mom and dad.”

“She did, ” he agrees, his voice filled with happiness and sadness both.

One day, she thinks firmly and she closes her eyes to feel her husband's soft touches ease her back to sleep. One day what they will have found with Emma and Henry and each other again make what they've lost be easier to bear. One day the dreams will fade. One day. 

Just not today.


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kidstark prompted:  
> Prompt for Advent calendar! Snow & Charming get into a fight shortly before Christmas, so Henry (and later, Emma) comes up with Operation Reindeer, wherein he tries to get them under mistletoe together, so they can make up in time before Christmas. :)

Operation Reindeer, Henry calls it.

Not because Gramps or Grams have a lot in common with reindeers. They don’t. That’s the beauty of the name. Anyone else will just think it something to do with Christmas, so it’s really a brilliant name for an operation to get his grandparents to ‘kiss and make up’, as he believes the saying goes. He’s got the perfect way in mind for it too.

Which is why Emma walks in on him putting up mistletoe in every place he can think of, and she stops dead in her tracks and blinks.

“Okay, kid,” she says calmly. “You want to tell me what this is about?”

“Gramps and Grams,” Henry says, watching his mom carefully. She hasn’t been all that forthcoming with details about why his grandparents are fighting, but he can tell she doesn’t like it from how much she tries to look indifferent about it.

“Henry…”

“You said they needed to kiss and make up, so if we make them kiss, they’ll make up!” he protests.

“It’s not…” she starts, then looks at him. “Actually, that’s so simple it might actually work.”

He beams. “I call it Operation Reindeer.”

“Don’t tell me Snow White and Prince Charming also knew Rudolph,” Emma groans, and he shakes his head.

“No, that’s just silly. I call it Operation Reindeer because no one will suspect it’s about them.”

“Of course,” she says, a slight smile tugging at her lips. “Brilliant. Apart from one fatal flaw.”

“What’s that?” Henry asks suspiciously.

“Exit strategy,” Emma says.

“We need one?”

“No. We have to make sure they don’t have one.”

II

Trapped.

Of all the adversaries Charming has faced over the years, he has to admit his own daughter and his grandson might be among the most dangerous. Mostly because they can prey on his love for them, one of his fatal flaws. (The other is of course Snow.)

So here he is. Lured here under false pretenses about Christmas gift shopping and then locked into the apartment by his own daughter and grandson. His only slight consolation is that he isn’t alone in his fate.

Snow is here too, looking aggravated. And while he is still angry with her, he cannot help but feel a slight tickle of amusement at her obvious aggravation.

“I can’t believe this,” she says, and he folds his arms.

“She’s a daughter of a bandit and a shepherd,” he says drily. “Cunning and patience in one. I can.”

He can see her lips turn slightly upwards and knows that somewhere deep inside, Snow is in fact thrilled that their daughter cares enough to do this, and rather amused at the method too. He certainly knows he is.

Snow lifts her gaze to him, and he swallows and looks away. A moment later he can hear her walk over to him.

“Charming,” she says softly.

He clenches his jaw as she lifts a hand to his cheek, making him look at her.

“I’m sorry,” she says, even if he knows that she isn’t. Not really. She would do the same again.

“You could have died, Snow,” he says harshly.

“It was worth it to save you,” she counters, steel and a touch of anger in her voice. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same.”

“I would…” he starts angrily, then trails off. Yes. She’s got him there. He would do the same. “You would have been just as angry with me if I had pulled a stunt like that!”

“I would…” she starts angrily, then trails off and bites her lip. He’s got her there, he knows. She would be angry, as he is angry, because she loves him as he loves her. “Charming…”

He steps closer, leaning his forehead against hers. “I love you.”

“I love you,” she agrees, and he lowers his hands to her waist to pull her even closer. A moment later she tip-toes and kisses him softly, a featherlight brush of lips.

“Mistletoe,” she murmurs, and he glances up to see that there is indeed a sprig of mistletoe hanging above. Not just one, in fact. More like ten.

“That’s probably Henry’s contribution,” he observes. It feels like something Henry would do. “Literally trying to make us kiss and make up, I suppose.”

“Mmm,” she agrees. “Not just settling for one kiss either.”

“Smart kid,” Charming says, and dips his head to kiss her again, and again, and again, then slanting his mouth across hers and kissing her until they’re both breathing heavily.

“That was five,” she breathes, digging her fingers into the cloth of his shirt. “You got five to go.”

“Mmm,” he agrees, and lifts her up. “Except there are at least four hanging in the kitchen too.”

“Smart kid,” she murmurs, and then she is kissing him while he presses her against the pillar and makes a note to get Henry a very, very nice Christmas present.

II

In the end, Operation Reindeer is a rousing successes, Henry finds. Gramps and Grams get back to their usual selves, smiling and holding hands and making eyes at each other, and they all have a lovely family Christmas that makes even Emma smile and laugh.

All the mistletoe is suspiciously missing, though, but Gramps assures him that they kept count of them all and that they didn’t go to waste.

That’s good, Henry thinks. He just wonders if they also liked the mistletoe bouquet he put in their bedroom.


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nikitamears prompted:  
> The Charmings go shopping (that sudden style change after 2x09) and have a nice albeit silly family day.

he key to a successful battle, Charming knows, is strategic planning and room to improvise. The combination of having plans and yet being open to exploit opportunities is what can win you a kingdom.

Or in this case, ensure a smooth shopping experience for all.

Snow found his planning the night before funny, giggling through his drawing up of floor plans and composing of mission briefings for the whole family. (In fact, the only way he could stop her laughing was to kiss her – not that he minded. Oh no.) But this morning she has managed to compose herself, looking serious and even giving him a mock salute he’s going to have to kiss her for later.

Emma just raises an eyebrow as he hands her her mission plans and floor map, while Henry looks suitably impressed.

“Why is it called ‘Operation Dragon’, Gramps?” Henry asks.

“Because weekend shopping is like facing a snarling beast that can devour you,” Charming answers smartly and Snow gives his arm a light smack.

“Couldn’t agree more,” Emma mutters, and his heart swells at this unexpected similarity with his daughter. “Why do we have to go shopping for clothes?”

“Because all the clothes I own are very…” Snow starts, clearly searching for the right way of saying ‘not quite the style of a princess turned bandit turned ruler of a kingdom and wife’.

“Cute,” he suggests, and she gives him a look.

“I just think it’s time for a change,” she says softly instead, and Charming takes her hand and thinks about all the things that have changed. He has his family back, finally, but so many things aren’t as he imagined them when Snow first told him she was expecting a child.

“Hmm,” Emma says begrudgingly. She gives him a look. “I suppose you’re going to tell me you need a change from flannel?”

“I need a change from David Nolan,” he says, and Snow squeezes his hand lightly.

“Don’t worry,” Emma says softly. “You’re definitely different from David Nolan.”

Not quite how he imagined the first ever compliment from his daughter, he thinks. But he’ll take it.

II

In the end, not everything goes according to plan. It never does. Henry gets lost on purpose, blaming it rather unfairly on Charming’s excellent drawing skills. Emma ends up buying a new toaster before Snow can drag her into a clothing store, and Charming only accomplishes two out of three planned stealing-kisses-from-the-wife side missions. (But one of them is a make-out session while she’s meant to be trying on some clothes, so that’s all right.)

Overall though, Operation Dragon succeeds. They all end up with new clothes, and as they drive home, Henry falls asleep against Emma’s shoulder and Emma falls asleep against the window.

“I think we wore out the children,” he whispers, and Snow smiles faintly. She puts her hand on his thigh and squeezes lightly.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For making it silly,” she says and smiles at him so lovingly his breath catches. “I know what you were doing. It’s the first thing we’ve done together as a family and you knew I might make a big deal out of it and freak out Emma.”

He says nothing, which Snow of course knows is as good as admitting it.

“So you made it silly,” she goes on, smiling at him. “You let them laugh at you and have fun. You let them relax.”

“Strategic thinking,” he says seriously, but he knows the faint smile on his lips is ruining his attempt at seriousness.

“Mmm,” she agrees. “Good planning and room to improvise, as I recall.”

“As I was taught by a princess who had stolen her father’s books on the art of warfare,” he comments and her smile turns luminous. “She was quite the bandit even in her early years.”

Snow gives him a mock glare quite ruined by the quick kiss she presses to his shoulder. “So what’s the final plan this evening, my victorious prince?”

He glances in the mirror, making sure Henry and Emma are still out.

“You and me,” he says softly, smiling at his wife, the woman who won him over, “and room to improvise.”


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ginnyxjosh prompted:  
> Prompt for advent calendar- could you write something about Snow and Charming and like, an average day at the castle? Just them maybe riding horses, practicing sword fighting, talking about different things, having a picnic lunch, whatever. Thanks!! Ps, I really love your fanfictions :)))

It’s a strange thing, Snow reflects, how easily a new life can become routine.

She had one, back in the forest. Her bandit routine. It changed when she met him, went from bandit to wife.

She likes this new routine.

Every morning she wakes up to Charming’s soft kisses, feeling his lips curve into a smile against her skin as he notices she’s awake. He always wakes first, being the shepherd of the two, and she finds that she loves being woken by him.

They usually make love then, waking their bodies up with caresses and mounting passion under the cocoon of the blankets. She never tires of it, never has enough of the feel of his skin against hers, the soft noises he makes when she moves while he is deep inside her, the strength of his hands as he steadies her when she falls against him, and the silence afterward when they nestle as they regain their senses.

She knows the servants gossip about the appetite she and Charming have at breakfast, but it’s the sort of gossip smiled at. What else is to be expected from a true love couple, after all?

The rest of the morning and afternoon is usually devoted to ruling the kingdom. Charming is working on improving farming through the kingdom while Snow is working on trade agreements with other kingdoms. Every now and then, like a shadow, a mention of Regina planning something will come up and Snow will feel the familiar sense of dread.

She doesn’t tell Charming about it. She doesn’t have to. He sees it, and always finds an excuse soon after to pull her away and simply hold her in a secluded corner.

It’s like being haunted by a ghost, Snow finds, only the ghost lives.

Charming always takes her away for lunch, often taking her on a picnic in the forest. He knows the forest was her home for many years, and perhaps as a shepherd himself, he knows that castle walls can be stifling sometimes. So they eat under the open sky, surrounded by trees and the horizon, and Snow marvels at how free she can feel bound so tightly to another person.

(They sometimes make love then too, on the picnic blankets or even in the grass, and the sun kisses her skin just as he does until the heat is all she feels.)

In the evening, there might be balls to attend or host, public appearances by Snow White and Prince Charming that is also a part of ruling a kingdom. But every now and then there is nothing to attend or host at all, and Snow slips into something far less grand than her gowns and takes Charming’s hand. Together, they head to that small walled-off part of their castle where they practise.

Charming usually practises his swordfighting; Snow her archery. Every now and then they switch it up or spar, but they never stop until they’re both aching and sweaty. This is a part of ruling too, after all – being ready to fight. She knows that now, as she didn’t when her mother told her the crown was heavier than it looked.

Whatever they spend the evening doing, they always end up linking hands and going to bed together. On a few nights they’re too tired for anything but curling up together and falling asleep, but most nights they do enjoy their marriage bed. Or on a few occasions, their marriage floor. Sometimes it’s quick and frantic, fueled by having to keep their hands off each other for a whole ball while unable to keep their gazes off each other, while other times it’s a slow seduction of hands and lips and skin to skin until they’re both lost in it.

It’s routine, a wonderful routine with slight variations. She knows she could happily live out her days with this routine, with this life, with him.

She also knows she can’t.

II

She wakes up first, before the dawn, slipping out of Charming’s embrace to walk over to the window. On the horizon, she can see the first light, the faint change of color to signal that the night will soon change to day.

Changes. Always changes.

She stands there until she hears soft noises behind her, and Charming’s hands slip around her waist to rest on top of her stomach. He dips his head to kiss her where her neck meets her shoulder, and she sighs happily.

“You’re up early,” he murmurs into her skin. “You’re not usually.”

It’s a strange thing, Snow reflects, how easily things can change. How easily routines can be broken, and new ones established. Bandit to wife.

Wife to mother.

“That might change,” she says, putting her hands on top of his and thinking of the new life growing beneath her skin, the child she learned yesterday that she is carrying. Their first. “Charming?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Everything changes, Snow thinks as Charming draws a sharp breath. Even routines. The routine of her bandit life changed when she met him, and now the routine of their married life is going to change too.

They’re going to have to find a routine as parents now.

She can’t wait to find out what that might be like.


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon prompted:  
> Prompt for advent calender: Despite her jealously/feigning indifference, Emma being fiercely overprotective of pregnant!Snow and/or the new baby. (Bonus points if magic is involved!)

The news of Snow’s pregnancy elicits a number of different reactions from the Charming household: Henry starts practising being a protective big brother to his aunt or uncle, Charming is charmingly ecstatic and annoyingly protective, and Emma… Emma, Snow isn’t sure about.

Her daughter seems to almost not react at all. It might be to hide her pain over it, or it might be to protect everyone else’s happiness when she herself is conflicted, Snow isn’t sure. She is just sure that Emma Swan’s walls have come firmly up again, and Snow has no idea how to begin to crack them.

II

The first crack appears with food.

The fridge always seems stacked with food whenever Snow checks it, which is quite peculiar since normally Snow does all the shopping herself. It’s not Charming’s doing, as he is far too busy on the new nursery. It’s definitely not Henry.

So it is Emma doing the shopping. Which normally would mean a fridge full of easy to make and relatively unhealthy food, but not in this case.

And when Snow accidentally comes across a magazine with an article about healthy eating for pregnant women carefully circled in red in Emma’s room, then she knows why.

II

Between the two of them, Charming and Emma seem to have found a way to prevent Snow from doing any physical activities at all. (Well, apart from the one physical activity that Charming not only encourages but downright initiates a lot of the time.)

Charming starts making breakfast every morning. Emma does dinner. Charming does the chores, Emma does the shopping. It even feels like they have some sort of secret agreement going on that if Snow as much as approaches some sort of task, one will immediately distract her while the other sneakily gets the task done.

It’s infuriating and annoying and still manages to make Snow’s heart ache with love for both of them.

 

II

The nursery gets its first inhabitant way before the baby arrives. It’s an old and worn stuffed toy, a tiny rabbit that has seen better days.

Snow doesn’t ask. Emma still tells.

“A boy at the orphanage gave it to me,” Emma says so falsely casually it makes Snow wince. “He said it would watch over me. I didn’t like falling asleep.”

“He’s lovely,” Snow says softly. “Thank you.”

The next day, one of Henry’s old toys end up in the nursery as well, and Snow thinks this new baby might have more protectors than he or she will know what to do with.

II

The house gets baby-proofed one day Snow is away shopping for baby clothes with Ruby, and the obvious suspect turns out to be quite adamant about his innocence. She even tries to kiss a confession out of him, as that tactic has worked quite well in the past.

“I didn’t do that,” Charming protests. “I would have, but someone beat me to it.”

Emma, Snow thinks, and can’t keep the smile off her face – and feels Charming’s lips curve upwards against hers as well.

II

When they get a picture of the tiny life growing inside her during one ultrasound session, the picture mysteriously vanishes from its frame for just an hour, just long enough for someone to make a copy and put it back.

Snow says nothing. Not even when she spies the copy of it in Emma’s wallet. She just makes a note to always get additional copies from now on.

II

Charming talks to her stomach just as he would when she was pregnant with Emma, and he never goes a day without caressing her growing bump lovingly. So the one day he gets stuck in a storm, Emma walks into the bedroom with a look on her face as if she’s prepared to face a dragon.

“David told me to hold the phone to your stomach while he talks,” Emma says awkwardly.

Snow bites her lip. “Okay.”

“And I have to…” Emma closes her eyes. “He negotiated one stroke and one pat as well.”

“How many bear-claws did he have to promise you?” Snow asks, trying not to laugh.

“You don’t want to know,” Emma says.

II

Snow falls asleep while David talks over the phone to her stomach, and when she wakes she can feel Emma’s hand still resting there. Not stroking, not patting, but lingering on her stomach without letting go.

II

She finds herself sleeping strangely peacefully in the last months of her pregnancy, far more peacefully than when pregnant with Emma. Part of it might be less fear of the future, with the shadow of Regina no longer hanging over them as it did back then. Charming’s arms are the comfort and sense of home they’ve always been, but there is something more as well.

When she wakes one night, she knows what it is.

Around the bed, a faint sphere of gold flickers and she knows this is magic. A protective barrier.

Emma’s, she knows. It has to be.

II

“Curious,” Rumplestiltskin says when Snow asks him about it. “Miss Swan must be projecting a protective spell while she is sleeping.”

“But why?”

“Magic runs on emotion, dearie. While sleeping, she might simply be guarding them less.”

“And what sort of emotion would she need to feel for a spell like that?” Snow asks, but she already knows.

“Love,” Rumpelstiltskin says, and smiles faintly.

II

The weeks before the baby is due, Charming and Emma seem to give up all pretense of not conspiring together and simply put up a damn schedule to make sure one of them is always with Snow.

Like father, like daughter, like overprotective family.

The schedule turns out to be a good idea after all, when the baby arrives two weeks early.

II

It’s an easy birth. Or easier than giving birth as a curse is about to strike, anyway, and Snow has a healthy baby boy that seems to be surrounded by the love the minute he enters into the world.

(No wonder, given how loved he was before he even arrived.)

Charming smiles through happy tears and kisses the baby reverently over and over, Henry looks awestruck and happy, and Emma… Emma, Snow is very sure about now.

“Hi,” Emma says as Charming slides the baby into her arms, and the baby looks up at her. Sister looks at brother. “I’m Emma.”

Emma Swan’s walls may have come firmly up, but they’re all inside it now, the whole family – including Emma’s little baby brother.


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon prompted:  
> Snow is trying to bake for the holidays & keeps getting interrupted by Charming who has a taste for her

It’s their first Christmas as a family, and so, Snow is determined to make it as Christmas-y as possible. Decorations have been put up, a suitable tree has finally been found and it looks like Christmas in every room.

That just leaves the cookies. Emma suggested just buying them, a suggestion that earned her a harsh glare. No. It’s Christmas. Cookies have to be homemade, and Snow is determined to do it.

It would just be easier if her husband more in mood for tasting cookies and less in the mood for nibbling on her.

II

“Charming…” Snow moans, as his mouth moves down her neck.

“Mmmm?”

“I have to…” she starts, but trails off as he presses her more firmly against the kitchen counter. Her head is falling back seemingly of its own accord as his strong hands settle on her waist and keep her firmly in place.

The dough, she tries to remember. She has to check if the dough is ready. She has to…

He turns her around in his embrace, his hands sliding down to the curve of her buttocks before lifting her up on the counter and looking up at her. As always, his gaze is so loving it leaves her breathless.

“Snow,” he says, and suddenly, tasting her name on his lips seem like a Christmas treat she has to have.

She kisses him.

The dough is forgotten, but the kitchen counter still gets used.

II

Ginger, Snow tastes, as Charming’s lips part against hers. Ginger for the gingerbread dough she was making and that she offered Charming a taste of. He licked it off her fingers and now she is licking into him, tasting ginger and sugar and that something that is just him.

Her hands are still white with flour, but he doesn’t seem to care as she weaves her fingers through his hair. His hands are on her back, holding and pressing and caressing all at once. She can feel the heat of his palm through cloth, and it makes her skin long for his touch.

He makes a noise at the back of his throat as she presses herself closer and kisses him harder, and before she knows it she’s in the air and then being pressed into the couch. Clothes are shed hurriedly, and then there is just skin, touches, heat and the fading taste of ginger from his kiss.

In the end, they end up just eating the dough while curled up together under a blanket on the couch, and then kiss the taste of it on each other happily.

II

The cookies are burning, Snow thinks faintly, as Charming thrusts into her again and she digs her fingers into his shoulder. The cookies are definitely burning; she can smell it.

She also doesn’t care. Not with Charming deep inside her, and around her, his body against hers and his hands on her back and his mouth encasing hers. He’s almost every sensation she can feel, and yet she wants more, needs more.

They were just going to share a kiss while the cookies were in the oven, a reward for having managed to keep their hands off each other and on the baking task at hand earlier. Just a kiss, only they never quite seemed to break it. Still haven’t, and she whimpers into his mouth as he presses two fingers between them.

The cookies burn, and Snow gives into a very different kind of heat.

II

In desperation, Snow banishes Charming from home, which works really well until she discovers she’s run out of sugar and has to run to the store to get some.

And of course Charming is there, looking sheepish and admitting he’s been buying bear-claws for Emma and leaving them at the station every morning as a sort of secret Santa.

She’s always loved Charming the man, but sometimes it feels like she’s falling in love with Charming the dad as Emma allows him to fill the role more and more. Daddy Charming, and the expression on his face when he talks about his daughter becomes him so very, very much.

The sugar ends up not being bought. Snow yanks her husband with her to his truck instead, and tastes the sweetness of his kiss and the smoothness of his skin until they’re both spent and panting.

II

“I thought you were going to make home-baked cookies,” Emma observes on evening, glancing at the tray of cookies. “Aren’t these from Granny’s?”

“Oh,” Snow says, trying to fight the desire to blush. “I, um… I was making them.”

“Don’t tell me they’ve all been eaten,” Emma mutters darkly, narrowing her eyes at Charming as if suspecting him.

He merely smiles. “Says the bear-claw champion eater.”

Emma looks ready to argue it, then sighs. “Fine. I guess some people are just insatiable.”

“Yes,” Charming agrees, giving Snow a look. “I definitely am.”

Makes two, Snow thinks, and has the lack of cookies to prove it.


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon prompted:  
> Snowing fic to accompany the ‘Let it Snow’ commercial from last holiday season

Charming has come to endure balls as a sort of necessarily evil, considering diplomatic work officially known as entertainment and socializing. It’s a way to build relations with other kingdoms, a way to keep nobles happy and contributing, a way to watch who isn’t walking to who and who is sneaking off to whisper in corners.

It is, in other words, a part of the duty of a prince.

But there is one part of it that always, always thrills him.

Dancing with his wife.

Of course it is only to be expected that a husband dances with his wife during a ball, but he knows people whisper about how often and simply _how_ he and Snow dances. He’s heard the whispers. Snow and the prince. They smile too intimately, they hold each other far too close and they look at each other as if dancing is merely foreplay.

He has to admit the whispers are pretty much spot on, and he couldn’t care less.

So here he is, at the Christmas ball, dancing with his own wife. She is smiling, and he is pressing his hand into her back just a little more firmly than politeness dictates. He’s also eating her up with his eyes, and that just makes her smile even more.

She is radiant, he thinks. There is no other word for it.

“Snow,” he murmurs affectionately, and her smile widens.

“A lot of Snow,” she agrees teasingly, and it takes him a moment to realize she is referring to the weather. It has been snowing all day, a blanket of white covering the land. It’s beautiful, just like the Snow is his arms.

“Mmm,” he says, and twirls her. “You know what I’ve always said?”

“What?”

“Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow,” he quotes happily, half tempted to sing it at her.

“Charming,” she quips, and they beam at each other. She is as happy to be in his arms as he is to be holding her, he knows, and sees it on her face also.

The music fades, and regretfully, he takes a step back. But she follows, quickly leaning forward and pressing her lips to his ear.

“You’ll get your Snow later,” she whispers, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. He can’t even think of a clever response before she is gone, greeting her next dance partner with a polite smile.

He’s going to hold her to that, he decides, and just hold her too.

II

He gets his Snow, and the snow doesn’t let up either. He can still see it snowing through the window as he nestles closer to Snow, kissing her shoulder lazily. Her skin is still warm from his insistent caresses, and he can see faint marks from his mouth on the skin above her collarbone.

She sighs happily, kissing the scar on his chin. “Charming?”

“Did you secure the new trade agreement with King Midas?”

“Yes. The ball was a success in that regard.”

She smiles at him. “In other too, I hope.”

“You know they’re not my favorite thing,” he says quietly, and she nods. She knows. He is a shepherd in some ways still, for all Snow makes him feel like a prince.

“I always loved them when I was a girl,” she says softly. “My father held such wonderful balls. They always made me feel like a princess.”

“I’m sorry,” he says awkwardly.

“Don’t,” she says, putting a finger across his lips. He kisses it. “When I dance with you at a ball, I feel like something far better.”

“What?”

“Your wife,” she says, and leans forward and brushes her lips against his. “I feel loved.”

“You are loved,” he murmurs, kissing her tenderly back. “Snow?”

“Mmm?”

“Dance with me.”

She blushes, glancing down at their rather naked state. “Here? Now?”

“Here. Now,” he confirms, getting out of bed and holding out a hand. She takes it, her unsure smile slowly growing slightly wicked as he pulls her to her. The light from the fireplace is flickering across her skin, and he finds that far more lovely than any extravagant gown.

“This is how I imagine dancing with you at every ball we’re at,” he whispers into her ear, catching her earlobe between his teeth and biting lightly.

She moans softly at that, and then again as his hands caress her side. “Charming?”

She seems to search for words, her eyes bright with love and lust and mischief, and then she seems to give up on finding them and pulls his head down for a kiss instead.

That manages to speak volumes too, he finds, as the dance becomes foreplay.

II

The next ball they’re at, Snow catches his eye and smiles wickedly, and he knows just what she’s thinking of.

People are going to whisper at this ball also, he knows, and couldn’t care less.

And when she glides into his arms and the music starts, he closes his eyes and imagines dancing with his wife just the way he wants to.

Just the way he’s going to.

Always.


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> austenphile prompted:  
> Prompt for Advent Calendar: If you still have some open slots, I would love to read about Charming telling Snow his real name. Obviously she knew he was a shepherd before the events in the Lost Girl.

He’s her fiance now, Snow thinks, and watches Charming as he sits down on the log next to her. Behind them, the dwarfs are bustling, so it’s not quite a private moment, but close enough.

“Snow?”

It’s strange, Snow considers, how well she feels like she knows Charming already. They’ve spent more time tying to find each other than actually together, and yet she can already read him. She knows what the the hesitance in his voice and the look he’s giving her means.

So she waits.

“I should probably have told you this before he proposed,” he goes on, watching the ring on her finger sparkle in the sunlight. He swallows. “Snow, I’m… I’m not really the son of King George.”

She nods. “I suspected.”

“You did?” he says, looking surprised.

“It was something King George said to me” she says softly.

“Oh,” Charming says, searching her face intently, as if looking for any signs of anger. He sees none, she knows, and she gives him an encouraging smile. “He adopted my twin brother. James. My parents gave him up in return for a farm. They were poor, Snow. So they gave him up and kept me. I didn’t even know about him until he was dead and King George was looking to replace him. I was just a shepherd then.”

He looks down at his hands, and she takes one and squeezes lightly. He looks up at her, and his face softens. She moves closer, and he lifts his free hand to cup her cheek.

“You didn’t want to, did you?” she asks softly, and he shakes his head.

“He threatened to burn our farm and kill my mother,” he says, and she bites back a surge of anger. King George threatened Charming? _Her_ Charming? “He demanded I marry Abigail. I was going to do it but…”

“But I stole your ring,” she observes, glancing down at it.

“My mother always said true love followed it,” he says softly, and his eyes seem brighter than the sun as he regards her. “I’d like you to meet her one day.”

“I’d like that,” she says, and his smile is luminous.

“You’re not angry?” he asks after a moment, his thumb stroking her skin lightly.

“Oh, I’m angry,” she says, and his face falls for a moment. “At him. You’re more of a prince than he has ever been a king, Charming.”

“David,” he says, and she tilts her head. “That’s my real name.”

“David,” she repeats, trying it out. “I still like Charming better.”

He laughs then, and impulsively, she pulls him into a kiss even knowing they have a possible audience of seven dwarfs. Somehow, she doesn’t care that others see when it comes to her and Charming. She’s fought too hard to be with him to let that bother her.

His lips are soft against hers, parting lightly when she presses herself closer. His fingers are stroking her ear and then her neck, making her sigh into the kiss.

“I love you,” he murmurs against her lips. “Snow, will you still marry me? I’m just a shepherd.”

“No, you’re not,” she says firmly, pressing a hard kiss against his lips. “You’re a shepherd, nothing just about it. You’re a real Prince Charming, _my_ Charming.”

He nods, then curls his fingers possessively into her hair. “My Snow.”

“My David,” she adds after a moment, and his lips curve upwards. “I will have to get another name to keep up with you.”

He laughs. “We’ll find one for you. But you didn’t actually answer the question.”

“I don’t have to,” she teases, lowering her hand to rest above his heart. “You already know.”

“Yes,” he says, the expression on his face radiating love, and she knows her own mirrors it.

“Yes,” she agrees, and kisses him in the bright sunlight, again and again, as she has every right to. He’s her fiance, after all. Her David. Her Charming. Her husband to be. Whatever she calls him, it doesn’t change who he really is to her. It never will.

He’ll always be her love, after all.


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon prompted:  
> Snow gives Emma a dance lesson

“Mom?”

The sound of Emma uttering that word still makes Snow’s heart ache with equal amounts of joy and pain. Emma has started using it far more frequently, but it’s still a rare enough occurrence to remind Snow that she might be Emma’s mother, but she was never quite her mommy.

“Yes, Emma?” she replies, pushing her conflicted emoticons aside and smiling up at her daughter, who I leaning against the frame of the door and looking hesitant.

Emma looks awkward. “I was… It’s about the ball.”

Snow has half been expecting this. “Emma, I know balls aren’t your thing, but…”

“I’m still coming,” Emma cuts in before Snow can start on her prepared speech. “Henry really wants me to, and I might as well get used to it.. It’s just… David asked me for the first dance.”

Snow nods. It took Charming a whole day to work himself up to ask his daughter for the first dance, and took him a week to stop beaming over her agreeing.

“I don’t know how to dance!” Emma blurts out, and Snow blinks. “Not ballroom dancing, anyway. I know Henry has been learning from David, but I feel weird asking and…”

Snow stands up, reaching for her daughter’s hand before Emma can say anything else. Of course. Of course Emma doesn’t know how to dance. It was one of the things Snow always thought she would teach her daughter when young, long before her first ball, but like everything else she thought it had been lost along with their nursery.

But no. Two decades too late, a dance lesson from mother to daughter.

“I’ll teach you,” she says softly, and Emma looks awkward and hopeful at the same time.

“You’re sure?” Emma asks, and Snow smiles.

“What are mothers for?”

II

Emma doesn’t have two left feet, but she does have hardly any patience and no tact at all, so it is a slight challenge to teach her the easier dances from the Enchanted Forest.

Every now and then, Emma makes a wrong step and Snow can see the temptation to just flee on her daughter’s face. She never does, though. Emma has stopped running.

“You’re a natural,” Snow tells her, doing a light twirl. Emma simply raises an eyebrow as she mimics the twirl.

“You’re a liar. But… Thanks.”

“Your father didn’t know how to dance at first either.”

“Oh?” Emma asks lightly, but Snow can hear the faint curious tone. She takes her daughter’s hand and leads her across the floor.

“He was raised a shepherd, not a prince,” Snow points out, and Emma’s forehead crinkles slightly.

“It’s weird to think about. He acts like such a…”

“Prince Charming?”

Emma gives her a look, then softens. “Yeah.”

“He wasn’t very princely the first time I tried to teach him a simple dance,” Snow remarks, wishing Charming and Emma could have spent 28 years living with just how similar they are instead of having to discover it piece by piece now. “He managed to trip us both so we ended up in a pile on the floor.”

She tactfully doesn’t mention what they did on the floor, but can feel the memory bring a slight heat to her cheeks.

Emma doesn’t seem to notice. “So I’m one up on him.”

“So far,” Snow says, lifting her hand to twirl her daughter around. “But we have five more dances to learn, so you may catch up to him yet.”

Emma just groans.

II

Her father once called her the fairest in the land, Snow remembers. She knows now why he did that. To a parent, their child will always be the fairest, because parents look with love.

And so she looks at Emma, her radiant, lovely and fair daughter, who is stepping onto the ballroom floor with only the tiniest hint of trepidation.

Charming bows, holding out his hand to Emma and she accepts after just a second’s hesitation. A moment later she steps into his arms, and father and daughter dance while Snow watches.

Emma dances well, though not perfectly, but Charming is smooth enough to cover any missteps and guides her through the dance easily. Every now and then Snow catches a glimpse of his face and smiles at his expression. He’s always loved so strongly, she knows. Her. Their daughter. Henry. Their second child.

Their family.

And as Snow catches a glimpse of Emma’s expression as she looks up at her father, she knows that is another thing Emma has in common with Charming. Emma might attempt to hide it more, but she loves no less strongly than Charming does.

Snow is even more sure of that when the dance ends and Henry walks up to Emma, requesting the second dance. Yes. Their daughter loves.

She feels Charming’s hand against her back, pressing lightly, and without a word she glides into his arms to dance. He is smiling, she notices, but his eyes are slightly teary. Like her, he must be feeling the bittersweetness of doing something with Emma he should have gotten to do two decades ago.

“You taught her well,” he murmurs against her ear, pressing a light kiss against it at the same time.

She considers pretending that she has no idea what he’s talking about, but knows he’ll see right through it. “How did you know?”

“Because she danced like me, and you taught me,” he says, and twirls her effortlessly before pulling her into his arms again. “You got teach our daughter to dance after all.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs, and rests her head on his shoulder and tries very hard not to think about what should have been and just enjoy what is.


	48. Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> snowwhitesdaughter26 prompted:  
> definitely Snow and Charming with interactions with Emma. Like Emma walks in on another taco moment :-)

Emma Swan has never been a great fan of romance. Perhaps it’s because it’s hard to feel romantic about anything when you grew up thinking not even your parents loved you enough to keep you, or perhaps it’s because the one time she did fall in love, he left her too.

Of course, now she knows her parents actually loved her more than anything and let her go to save her, and that the situation with Neal was more complicated than she knew back then. But still. It doesn’t erase how she felt, and how she felt fueled a lifelong distrust of romance and love stories.

She never expected to get front seat tickets to an epic romance, a love story out of fairy tales and true love in the flesh – also known as her parents.

II

They’re kissing again, Emma notices, glancing over into the corner where her parents are standing. Public displays of kissing, her parents’ specialty, it feels like sometimes. At least it’s not really indecent this time, not like some of the kisses she’s seen them exchange that makes her think of tacos. This is just light brushes of lips in-between gazing at each other in a way that manages to be close to indecent as well. Practically restrained, as far as David and Mary Margaret go.

She can see other people glancing over at them sometimes, smiling faintly as if delighting in the sight of two people so obviously in love. It is how Emma wishes she could feel. Okay, they’re her parents, and she’ll never not find it awkward thinking about her parents showing their love for each other physically, but it’s not just that.

It’s seeing how strongly they love and knowing she could have been raised with that strength.

How different might that have been?

II

They can’t just sit like normal people, Emma considers. No. David and Mary Margaret always manage to sit in a way that somehow manages to radiate affection. It’s holding hands, or leaning on each other, or thighs pressed firmly together, or David’s hand on Mary Margaret’s shoulder or around her waist, or Mary Margaret’s arm hooked in his.

The few times Emma has caught a glimpse of them sleeping, she knows it’s the same there. They’re always sleeping pressed closely together or partially on top of each other, with tangled limbs and no space between them.

They’re always holding on, in some way. The moment there is any danger, they seem to reach for each other as well, as if they need psychical reassurance.

It makes her wonder why.

II

Sex, Emma thinks faintly. Oh, she always knew love involved kissing and as she grew older she realized that babies didn’t come from sticking your tongue in someone’s mouth but did still involve a sort of sticking. But it’s one thing to know that true love probably involves a lot of true lust.

It’s another thing to get a picture of it.

Again.

“Emma!” Mary Margaret says, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide. David is valiantly trying to shield her naked body with his, but Emma isn’t sure that is much better. At least Henry isn’t here, since what David and Mary Margaret were up to as she walked in was clearly the opposite of resting. It was more like vigorous physical activities. “I thought you would be back later. I sent a text!”

“That was two hours ago!” Emma protests, as David finally manages to fumble the blankets free to cover himself and his wife. “You can’t have been… For two hours?!”

The guilty look on Mary Margaret’s face speaks volumes, and a moment later David starts laughing. Emma glares at him just as Mary Margaret does, but he doesn’t stop.

“This isn’t funny,” Mary Margaret protests, but Emma can tell her mother is fighting not to smile.

“It is,” Emma says, and. It really is. She can well imagine how silly it looks, the daughter walking in on her same age parents having enthusiastic true love’s sex and looking as if the concept was foreign to her. Of course she should know her parents have sex. It’s how she got here, after all.

It’s such a child thing to do, to think one’s parents just hold hands and kiss and leave it at that.

So she laughs, and David and Mary Margaret do as well, laugh and laugh until they’re all out of laughter.

“I think I need some vodka,” Emma finally says. “Your treat.”

II

It’s a lot of alcohol and a dozing David in Mary Margaret’s lap later when Emma finally dares ask what she’s been wondering since the curse broke and she finally got a look at Snow White and Prince Charming as a couple.

Why are they so affectionate, so physical, so straight out of a love story written by unicorns and Care Bears and romantic cuddly kittens? (Okay, she doesn’t put it quite like that, but close to, given the alcohol.)

Mary Margaret chuckles slightly at the question, but then lifts her hand to David’s head in exactly the sort of loving gesture that could be the cover for True Love Monthly.

“I almost lost him so many times,” Mary Margaret says quietly, stroking his hair. “I just need to know that I have him.”

“Oh,” Emma says quietly.

“I’ve faced the loss of him so many times,” Mary Margaret goes on, glancing down at him with such love Emma swallows. “It makes me all the more determined to enjoy being with him. True love isn’t easy, Emma. Not everyone gets it, and some people lose their chance at it altogether. I know that. I know how rare and precious it is. How can I not cherish it in every way I know how?”

“That makes sense,” Emma manages to say.

“Does it bother you?” Mary Margaret asks, and Emma thinks about her parents holding hands, about how they look at each other and even how they kiss.

“A little,” she admits after a moment, and Mary Margaret looks sad. “But that’s because you’re my parents and it would be weird if it didn’t. But… I also know that I miss it whenever you guys have one of your rare fights.”

Mary Margaret smiles then, almost hopefully. “You know we want to be affectionate with you as well, don’t you?”

Emma swallows, then thinks about her parents hugging her, her mother reaching for her hand and her father’s soft forehead kisses. “I know, I’m just…”

“Not ready,” Mary Margaret says sadly.

“Working on it,” Emma counters, and Mary Margaret smiles that hopeful smile of hers again. “I’m… I’m getting used to it. To how you two are with each other as well. Just promise me one thing?”

“What?”

“Get a bedroom door that locks before the next time you decide to ravish my father for hours, would you?”

Mary Margaret blushes, but her eyes are bright. “I promise.”

II

The next day, David installs a new bedroom door, and Emma pretends not to notice that. But when her parents hold hands and kiss during lunch, she doesn’t look away and even smiles faintly.

She might learn to tolerate love stories, she reasons. At least the one known as her parents.


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon prompted:  
> Snowing spend the whole day in bed together

“Snow…” Charming tries, but she folds her arms and glares at him. “It’s just one day.”

“A day,” she echoes. “A whole day staying in bed.”

A smile tugs at his lips. “Snow, you twisted your ankle. A whole day in bed is getting off easy. Doc was suggesting at least five before you gave him the same sort of glare you’re giving me.”

“It worked on him,” she quips, and he looks downright amused.

“It’s a good thing for your ankle that I am immune to your glares,” he counters, and she narrows her eyes slightly. “Perfectly immune, in fact.”

She keeps her gaze on him for another minute, but he merely folds his arms and continues to look amused. With a sigh, she lets her head fall back against the pillow. She can’t even glare at him properly, not when she saw the anguished look on his face when he thought she was seriously hurt.

“What am I going to do with a day in bed, Charming?”she asks, and he sits down next to her and take her hand.

“We’ll think of something,” he promises, and she tilts her head to look at him.

“We?” she echoes.

“You didn’t think I would abandon you alone to such a cruel fate, did you?” he says, his voice all mock seriousness, but his eyes bright with love. “Unless you want me to.”

Her kiss, soft and tender, should be answer enough, she figures.

II

She wakes in Charming’s arms, and it takes a moment to remember that she has no reason to actually wake up. She has to stay in bed today. There is no point in getting up early as she always does (in order to have a private breakfast with Charming before getting to their more public duties), not today.

She lowers her head to Charming’s chest again, and he makes a soft noise. She watches his peaceful face for a moment, drawing her hand across his smooth chest. She does love this, she has to admit, this sensation of being nestled in his arms, of having him close.

He’s hers, she thinks with satisfaction, and presses a kiss against the scar on his chin. He sighs at that too, then opens his eyes and blinks at her sleepily. After a moment, his lips curve into a smile.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, lifting a hand to her back. His palm is warm as it follows the curve of her spine, and she arches her back slightly at his touch.

“Good morning,” she replies, shifting slightly to kiss him. His lips are soft as they press against hers, and he hums happily at the back of his throat. “Charming?”

“Mmmm?”

“When did you ask Red to bring us breakfast?”

He glances at the window, where the faint light of the dawn is just starting to creep in. “Not for a while yet. Are you hungry? I can head down to the kitchen and…”

She silences him with another kiss, this one far harder and demanding.

“Oh,” he murmurs breathlessly against her lips, probably realizing she has an entirely different meal in mind: him.

“Oh,” she echoes teasingly, and kisses him again.

II

With her ankle, Charming is so very careful – his touches teasingly light, his kisses across her skin gentle brush of lips, even his thrusts slow and languid with his hands on her hips bracing her.

She is less so, digging her fingers into his back, biting down on his lower lip, bucking against the touch of his fingers between her legs, scraping her nails across his skin. He loves that in her, she knows, feeling his moans reverberate into her. He loves her, and loves her impatience, her occasional roughness, her pursuit of what she wants, the kisses she steals, the bandit in his bed.

Just as she loves the shepherd in hers, the patience and gentleness in him, the determination to touch her until she gasps his name, the way he watches her face when he sinks into her and looks lost, and the occasional roughness to match her own.

The shepherd and the bandit, Prince Charming and Snow White, husband and wife. They are a match, she knows, parting her lips as he kisses her and presses against her; she growls his name into his mouth as she comes.

II

Ruby doesn’t comment on their appearance as she gives them a tray with breakfast treats, merely raises an eyebrow at the state of Snow’s hair and the marks on Charming’s shoulder before slipping out with a knowing smile.

Then again, it isn’t the first time Red has seen them in this state, Snow figures, and wonders if she is meant to feel ashamed for wanting her husband as much as she want. She can’t, though. It feels like too much of a good thing to be ashamed.

They feed each other breakfast with laughter and smile, and then Charming puts aside the tray and they snuggle together in silence for a while. She lets herself listen to his breath, drawing faint patterns on his skin with her fingers.

There is no rush. No meetings to hurry to. Just him and her and nothing else.

This might not be such a bad thing after all, she decides.

II

He kisses her ankle several times, propping it up on a pillow before settling down and reading to her. She curls up against his side and he reads from a book his mother used to tell him stories from, having had to sell the actual book to have food on their table on winter. It makes her want to weep for the kindly woman who was willing to die to give her son what he wanted, but instead she kisses his chest and vows to herself that she will honor that as well as she can.

She’s going to make Ruth’s son happy, to love him truly in every way she can, to have a family with him and watch him read to their children in bed.

“What?” Charming asks, pausing as he notices the look on her face.

“It’s a good book,” she tells him sincerely, and kisses him; the book ends up falling to the floor forgotten.

II

“I love you,” he whispers, his expression almost reverent as he gazes at her. She has no breath to answer, his fingers and steady thrusts stealing her breath and building her pleasure.

He knows anyway, she knows. He knows her, after all, knows that she often goes for action rather than words, and thus knows what her touches, her kisses and her caresses mean.

I love you too, she thinks, and lifts her head to kiss him, again and again.

II

They doze off for a while, waking in the evening to have some sort of soup Granny has made them for dinner (apparently not trusting the cook to make the right kind of food for someone with a sprained ankle, according to Red) and then settling into each other’s arms again.

They talk then, telling each other stories; Charming’s mostly seem to involve sheep while hers are about royal life Every now and then one of hers involve Regina, and he presses a comforting kiss to her temple whenever her voice wavers.

They walk about family too, about the children they’re going to have and what they can give them. It’s not riches or a castle that they’re both desperate to give. No. It’s the the love of a mother and father, both having grown up losing one of them.

It will be different for their children, Snow promises to herself, and hopes she won’t have to break it.

II

It’s late when Charming stirs slightly, dipping his head down to kiss her lazily. She moans softly, and he sighs as he breaks the kiss.

“You did it,” he murmurs. “You spent the whole day in bed and survived.”

“With the help of my valiant knight,” she replies, and he grins.

“It was a great sacrifice to make,” he says, and she smacks her hand against his chest.

“Such a Prince Charming,” she teases, and he smiles as she brushes a featherlight kiss against his lips. “Charming?”

“Mmm?”

“I could do this my whole life.”

“Spending the day in bed?” he asks, smiling.

“No,” she counters, pressing her finger against his lips. “Spending the day with you. In bed, or in the council chamber or on some adventure being chased with ogres or medusas. I want to do everything together. I never want to leave your side.”

He makes a soft noise of satisfaction at that, moving to kiss her, but she keeps her finger firmly pressed against his lips.

“Unless you want me to?” she teases.

His kiss, firm and insistent, is answer enough.


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon prompted:  
> Emma babysits her new brother or sister & talks about the weirdness of their Family tree

Emma Swan has faced dragons, mermaids, ogres, eternal teenagers, wraiths and curses. But none of those have prepared her for the terror of what she's about to face now. 

Babysitting her baby brother. 

Sure, she volunteered for it, but that makes it no less terrifying. She just wanted to do something for her exhausted parents who were also clearly in desperate need for some alone time, and suggested this without thinking.

So they are going on a date night to Granny's and she is babysitting. 

Help.

Mary Margaret is still fussing over little Jacob while David is giving Emma an encouraging smile. She wonders if he's seeing right through her attempt at a brave face, as he seems to have been developing a disturbing habit of reading her very well. But if he does, he shows no sign of it. 

“He should be ready to sleep soon. If there's anything, just call,” Mary Margaret says breathlessly, beaming down at the small baby boy before carefully easing him into Emma's arms. “I know you'll take care of him, but if there's anything, anything at all...”

“Snow,” David says gently, and the two of them seem to be having another one of their silent conversations. Emma takes the opportunity to swallow several times while their attention isn't on her.

She has a baby in her arms. Her baby brother. She never even held her own son and now she is holding her brother.

Help.

“Have a good time,” she manages to say to David and Mary Margaret. David squeezes her shoulder while Mary Margaret gives Jacob one last kiss, and then gives Emma one too. 

With that, her parents are gone and Emma is left with her baby brother. He blinks lazily up at her, so terrifyingly adorable. She imagines Henry looked much like him, and the thought makes her want to flee.

But she doesn't. She heads for the couch instead, sitting down and cradling the baby gently. She just has to get him to sleep, and then he can sleep through the evening and she can drown her fears in ice cream.

“Hi,” she says dumbly. She refuses to do baby talk. There are limits to sisterly duties, and she draws the line at sounding like a cooing bird. (Her mother talks bird. Not her.) “How does falling asleep sound?”

Jacob makes a face, scrunching his forehead slightly. It reminds her of David, and on second thought maybe even herself. 

Shit. 

“Okay, how does a bedtime story sound?” she tries. There is no way she is singing lullabies. Not until it's a last resort, at least. “Problem is, I don't know a lot of them. Henry – that's your nephew – has a storybook full of them, but he's with Regina tonight. She's his other mother. And your mother's step-mother.”

She pauses. “Actually, just explaining your family tree would probably take a whole book. There is your parents. David and Mary Margaret. They're Snow White and Prince Charming as well.”

She thinks of her parents, the ones she thought abandoned her and who she now knows loved her more than anything.

“They're great parents,” she says quietly. “You're lucky to have them, even if they'll probably traumatize you somewhere down the line. Never enter their bedroom without knocking. Trust me, I'm your big sister.”

He makes a soft noise as if he agrees.

“That's me,” she goes. “I'm Emma. I'm your big sister. A bit bigger than normally, actually. I have a son named Henry. He's your nephew. You'll love him. I did.”

She smiles faintly, thinking of the boy she gave up to give him his best chance, and how he found her and gave her a chance at a family. 

“He was adopted by Regina. She was the Evil Queen. Less evil now, but still acts like a queen. But she secretly made a protection spell to keep you safe while your mommy was pregnant with you, so I think she might like you.”

Jacob makes a noise as if it is obvious that anyone would love him, and she smiles at that. He is the son of two of the most loved (and in love) people she knows, so perhaps he takes love as a given. She hopes so, anyway. She doesn't want him to ever think of love as something just out of a fairy tale, as she did. 

“Henry's father is Neal,” she continues, choosing her words carefully. “He's... he's... He's Neal. He was Baelfire. His father is Rumpelstiltskin or Mr. Gold. You might remember him. He gave you a dragon mobile after you were born.”

Sometimes she wonders about Gold's affection for her family. It's not just about Neal, she's sure. He seems to have had a certain fondness for her parents even before she was born. Why, she isn't sure.

“I suppose Belle will be in your family too one day,” she says thoughtfully. “She's Mr. Gold's girlfriend. He had a father too. Peter Pan. No, really. Peter Pan was part of the family.”

She forces herself not to shudder at the memory. Pan nearly took her son from her, something she will never forgive. She also knows she came out of that journey stronger, and closer to her parents, but that doesn't mitigate anything. 

“I think that's everyone,” she finally says. “Oh no, there's also King George. He adopted your uncle James and then sort of your dad. But you won't see him at Christmas since he disowned your daddy for loving your mommy.”

Rather stupid, Emma thinks. Anyone can see David and Mary Margaret couldn’t be more in love if they tried and trying to change that is pointless. Even in their cursed state they were drawn to each other despite everything.

“That's your family, kid,” she sums up. “Well, for now. There might be new additions.”

She tries very hard not to think about additions she might make, very, very hard. 

“It's quite confusing,” she says instead, and Jacob makes a noise as if he agrees. “But you know what, kid? You're lucky to have it.”

Jacob blinks at her, and then reaches for her finger and grabs it. She holds her breath for a moment, marveling at how it feels. 

“So am I,” she whispers, thinking about the family; their family. “Yeah, so am I, kid.”


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon promoted:  
> Prompt for advent calendar: snowing wrapping some christmas gifts with some fun ;)

“Snow?”

“Yes?”

“Just how many gifts did you get Henry and Emma?”

His wife looks adorably guilty, Charming notices, not even meeting his gaze.

“A few,” she says.

He looks at the pile of gifts they still have to wrap. “This qualifies as 'a few' in what realm, exactly?”

“Mine,” she counters, and he chuckles softly. She's still avoiding his gaze, though, and he puts the gift he just wrapped under the tree and then shifts closer to her. 

“All right, Snow White, ruler of the realm of plenty, you want to tell me why we're giving our daughter and our grandson enough presents to put Santa out of business?” he asks, lifting his hand to touch her shoulder. He can feel the tension in her, but she slowly relaxes as he continues to caress her gently. 

He waits.

“Emma lost 28 years of gifts,” she finally says, and he nods slowly. Ah. “I just want this Christmas to be... I want it to be perfect for her.”

“Snow,” he says gently. “Emma is spending her Christmas with Henry and us. I don't think any gift you can give her can top that. She has her family.”

Snow bites her lip. “She told me she felt like an orphan, Charming. In Neverland.”

The words cut into his heart, but he keeps his face calm. Emma, his darling, beloved daughter thinking herself an orphan. If pain could kill, that would be a mortal blow.

“You can't change that with presents,” he says instead. “You gotta give it time, Snow. She spent 28 years feeling lost. It will take her some time to get used to being found.”

She smiles faintly at him. “You always know what to say.”

“Not really, I just wing it well,” he jokes, and her smile grows wider and then turns into that smile she only ever gives him. In the light of the Christmas tree she looks downright radiant, and so he leans forward and kisses her. She sighs into it, pressing herself closer and lifting a hand to his cheek. 

“I have a gift for you too,” she whispers.

“You're my gift,” he tells her and her eyes soften. “Snow, you've given me love I don't feel worthy of, a daughter that makes me proud every day and with her a grandson we're lucky to have in our lives. You've given me a family that started with you.”

“Charming,” she says breathlessly, and then kisses him eagerly. He pulls her onto his lap as she tugs at his lips, lifting her sweater enough to allow his hands to stroke her lower back. 

“You're still helping me wrap all these presents,” she says against his lips, and he makes an exaggerated groan that she kisses into a moan. “Afterwards, at least.”

“After what?” he murmurs, kissing her nose gently before finding her lips again. 

“After we do some unwrapping,” she says; he gives himself to her quite eagerly, and under the tree too. 

II

Some time later, they've wrapped themselves in a blanket and have nestled themselves on the couch. Pile of presents still lay unwrapped, but it's many hours until Emma will be home yet. They have time to finish wrapping later.

“Charming?”

“About your gift...”

“You mean that wasn't it?” he jokes, and she gives him a look.

“Charming, you unwrap me on a near daily basis. It's definitely not something you save for special occasions.”

He smiles, knowing she's got him there. “So, what is this gift?”

“It's an addition,” she says softly.

“Addition to what?”

“The gift you claim I've already given you.”

He nearly bolts upwards, catching himself – and Snow – at the last minute. She beams at him as he grabs her upper arms. “You're pregnant?!”

“Yes,” she admits, biting her lip. “That's also why I wanted to make this Christmas special for Emma, because at the next one...”

“She'll have a sister or brother,” he finishes. He stares at her, then kisses her face reverently; her cheeks, her nose, her eyelids, her forehead and then her lips. Her eyes are teary, he notices, but they are happy tears. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” she says; her voices catches. He kisses her again, and again, knowing that while he has his family, Santa's out of business with him because nothing will ever top that gift.


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon prompted:  
> Prompt for Advent calender: Snow talks to Emma about she and Charming having another baby

“Emma?”

Mary Margaret's voice is hesitant, reminding Emma more of the woman she knew in Storybrooke than the fairytale princess/bandit she's slowly getting to know now. Strangely, Emma finds she is happy about that, happy that there is something of the friend she came to consider family even before the curse broke that remains. 

She was very fond of that friend.

But she has also come to love her mother.

“Yeah?” she replies, and Mary Margaret sits down on the couch next to her. David has taken Henry out for ice cream, and in such a way that Emma suspects he was deliberately giving Mary Margaret and her some time to talk. Her father isn't exactly subtle, after all. Much like herself.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret says again, taking her hand. “David and I, we... We're having a baby.”

Emma just nods automatically, feeling slightly dizzy for a moment. She has been expecting this moment to come, yet she realizes she wasn't quite ready for it.

“Congratulations,” she says after a moment, realizing Mary Margaret is waiting for her reaction. 

Mary Margaret is watching her intently, squeezing her hand lightly. “Emma, we're not looking to replace you, we're not...”  
“It's fine, you know,” Emma cuts in, trying to give a reassuring smile. “I get it. You missed out on raising a child. I remember what you said in the Echo Cave.”

Mary Margaret winces slightly. “Not exactly how I wanted to you to find out.”

“It helped us save Neal, and through Neal we got our way home and saved Henry,” Emma says, very firmly not thinking about that moment in the cave or the moments after. “that's all that matters.”

“No,” Mary Margaret says firmly, and that is all Snow White, Emma thinks. “You matter a great deal to us, Emma.”

“I know,” Emma manages to say. She does know. She's seen it enough times now. They support her, they love her, they keep trying to find ways to make her happy. They want so very much for her to be happy. “I suppose I would probably have had siblings even if you had raised me.”

Mary Margaret nods, her eyes bright with tears. “You would have had several. But you would have always been our firstborn. You always will be.”

“The big sister,” Emma says, realizing to her horror that her own eyes are teary too. She tries to blink the tears away, but they seem to linger. “So what will I be a big sister to, a boy or a girl?”

“We don't know yet,” Mary Margaret says, managing a smile. “We were hoping you would come with us to the ultrasound appointment.”

Emma remembers hers, listening to the faint heartbeat of a child she already knew she had to give up. She didn't want to know the sex, as that would make it easier to picture what she was giving up. 

But this child, this child can have everything she couldn't give Henry, everything her parents wanted to give her. This child can be different. 

“Okay,” Emma says and Mary Margaret's smile widens. “I suppose that comes with the big sister territory.”

“You're going to be a wonderful sister,” Mary Margaret says, pulling her into a hug. “Just like you're an amazing mother.”

Emma feels a strange combination of awkward and proud. That her parents love her, that she has come to accept and learn to trust. But that they're also proud of her, so very proud, that she is still learning to deal with.

“You are too, you know,” she whispers, and Mary Margaret makes a choked sob. “You'll be an amazing mother for this child, just as you are for me.”

“When you let me,” Mary Margaret jokes weakly, but she is beaming when Emma pulls back to look at her. “You can have another child too, you know. Henry will understand.”

“I know,” Emma says quietly. She thinks of her loving son who will love being a big brother, and love being a big brother figure to his uncle or aunt. She thinks of the men in her life, and of second chances. “I'll settle for big sister for now. Besides, David would probably kill anyone who knocked me up and I'd hate to have to arrest my own father.”

Mary Margaret laughs softly. “He might resort to simple bodily grievous harm if you reminded him he would get to be gramps to another kid that way.”

Emma cracks a smile at that, thinking of her father and Henry. Yeah, she could definitely see David enjoy getting to be grandfather to more than one kid. 

“Emma,” Mary Margaret says, squeezing her hand again. “Are you sure you're okay with this?”

Emma thinks of a ruined nursery in another land, her nursery, and all the things that have been lost to them all. 

“No,” she says, and Mary Margaret's face falls. “I will never be okay with what we lost. But I will be better than okay with having a brother and sister. I'll be happy with it.”

Mary Margaret pulls her into another hug, and Emma lets her head rest on her mother's shoulder. They sit like that until David returns with Henry, and rather than interrupting, David simply joins in and hugs them both. Henry too, joins the embrace.

Her family, Emma thinks. Her son, her mother, her father and her sister or brother on the way. Her growing family that might grow even more. 

“Why are we hugging?” Henry asks, nuzzling his head against Emma's shoulder. David and Mary Margaret both laugh and link hands across Emma's back. 

“It's a family thing, kid” Emma says; it is, after all.


	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon promoted:  
> Emma gives her parents an unexpected gift

The gifts have all been distributed, the cookies have been eaten, the carols sung, the guests have left and the Charmings are about official Christmas-ed out, Emma reckons . Even Henry has fallen asleep, and David has gently carried him to his bed. Tomorrow, he's off to Regina's for another round of Christmas, so Emma supposes the boy needs his strength.

She feels quite mellow herself. The early part of the day was spent saving Storybrooke from a crisis (again), but the afternoon and evening has been peaceful. It's even snowing, something that has caused David to make so many Snow puns that Mary Margaret threatened to tie him up somewhere if he didn't shut up. David just laughed and claimed she did that often enough anyway and then kissed her, and Emma had some more eggnog to pretend she never heard that.

But all in all, she's actually enjoyed herself this Christmas. The food has been good, her parents have been heartbreakingly sweet through it all, the dwarfs have been great entertainment. Henry has loved it all and the pile of gifts ended up being impressive sight.

She's been given a lot of thoughtful and loving gifts, she has to admit. A new leather jacket, a toaster, several warm hats with matching lovely leather gloves and even enchanted walkie talkies for her and Henry from Gold.

There is also the sword David got her, which Emma half expected Mary Margaret to protest about. Instead Mary Margaret had gotten her a bow and arrows as well, reminding Emma that while her parents might be the most lovey-dovey couple in all the realms, they also seem to think kicking ass and going on adventures is a natural part of love too. 

She watches them now, as David settles down on the couch and Mary Margaret immediately nestles against him. He puts his arm around her and caresses her arm slowly without seeming to even think about it, as if his caresses have become instinctual by now. 

“Henry is still out like a light,” David says softly, and Emma nods. Her father is quite proud of his role as grandfather, she knows, and finds it endearing to the point of almost getting mushy about it. 

“I think he liked his gifts,” Mary Margaret says hopefully.

“Of course he did,” Emma replies, snorting lightly. “He got the biggest pile of us all. He's downright spoiled.”

“As I recall, you got him half of those gifts,” David teases gently, and Emma gives him a look. 

“Maybe I got him a few extra,” she admits reluctantly. “He's just been through so much, I wanted him to have a good Christmas.”

“He did,” Mary Margaret assures her, smiling at her.

“Yeah,” Emma says, taking a deep breath. “So did I, by the way. Thank you.”

Her parents beam at her with so much gratitude she feels downright guilty. She does appreciate all they've done for her. She does. She's just bad at expressing it. 

“I got you another gift,” she rushes out before she starts feeling even more awkward. Her parents look at her curiously as she reaches into her bag and pulls out two flat gift-wrapped packages. “One is from Henry and one's from me. He only finished it today and I didn't want to give you mine without his.”

Mary Margaret accepts the gifts with a happy smile, and David kisses her temple while she unwraps the first one. It's a home-made gift frame with 'world's best grandparents' on it that Henry has painted, and the picture is of David and Mary Margaret and Henry during a visit to the stables. 

“Oh,” Mary Margaret breathes. Her eyes are teary. 

“he thought of it himself,” Emma says. “He... You're really great with him, guys. Thanks.”

“He's a great kid,” David says softly, and she can only nod, feeling a lump in her throat. 

Mary Margaret is opening the next gift, and Emma bites back her slight anxiety about it. She decided to get them this, she reminds herself. 

“Oh,” Mary Margaret says again, land David peers down at what she's unwrapped. It's another picture frame, a bought one this time, with “our daughter” engraved. Inside is a picture taken at Granny's of her, David and Mary Margaret in a semi-hug.

“Granny took the picture and thought I might like it,” Emma says in the silence. “I thought maybe you two would like it too so I got a copy and...”

Before she can finish, Mary Margaret is reaching for her and pulling her into an embrace. A moment later David's arms around them both, and Emma finds herself hugging them both back.

They must know what she's saying with this, after all, what she's been working up the courage to find a way to tell them for weeks now. 

She's not just their daughter by birth any more. 

“Thank you, Emma,” Mary Margaret whispers as David presses a kiss against Emma's forehead and then Mary Margaret's. 

“Merry Christmas,” Emma replies softly and closes her eyes and feels completely at peace in the embrace of her parents. Tomorrow, she's definitely going to blame the eggnog for being this mushy, but for right now, she's actually going to let herself enjoy it.

II

A few weeks later, her parents get her a matching picture frame with “my family”, and Emma puts her copy of the picture Granny took in it and keeps it on her night table right next to one of Henry.


	54. Chapter 54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gehayi prompted:  
> Snow/Charming, picking Emma’s name

Snow rests her hands on her growing stomach, and her head in Charming's lap while he strokes her hair and smiles down at her. It's a bright summer's day and they've stolen some privacy away from the castle, as they do sometimes.

“It's a boy,” he says again, and she smiles at his certainty, knowing he's wrong. Not that she fears he would prefer a boy over a girl, not really. He will take one look at his baby girl and fall in love, just as she would with a baby boy. 

“I'm just saying there's no harm in having picked a girl's name too,” she says, and before he can start thinking too much about her insistence at picking a girl's name too and therefore probably figuring it out, she goes for a tactic he taught her: Distraction. “For the future as well. Or don't you want more than one child?”

He gets a slightly far-away look in his eyes, as if he's imagining the future. Then he grins. “I definitely want more than one.”

“Well, then,” she says and lets herself imagine him surrounded by children for a moment. “Let's pick a girl's name too.”

“Yes, princess,” he teases, and she gives him a look he merely grins at. Then he grows more serious. “Would you like to name her after you mother?”

Snow thinks of her mother, of the happy years being raised by her and then the years after. 

“No,” she says, and Charming cups her cheek in a comforting gesture. “I... No.”

“You don't have to explain,” he says quietly. 

“What about your mother?” she asks, thinking about Ruth's sacrifice. This child wouldn't be coming if not for her, but she doesn't want to burden Charming with that knowledge. Not yet, at least. 

The sadness in his eyes makes her lift her head and kiss him tenderly. He sighs at that, supporting her head before easing her down into his lap again. 

“Not as a first name,” he says quietly. “But I wouldn't mind it as a middle name for one of our children.”

“I would like that too,” she reassures him, and he smiles lovingly at her. 

“So, are you going to tell me the name you've chosen?” he says, trucking a strand of hair behind her ear and then caressing her ear gently.

“Who says I've picked a name already?” she protests.

“The look on your face,” he says, and she opens her mouth to argue it, but then thinks better of it. He knows her too well. She loves that in him most of the time, but she has to admit that every now and then it is a slight nuisance. 

“I have a suggestion,” she says instead.

“If that's the way you want to phrase it,” he teases. She gives him a look again, but can't quite help her lips turning upwards. “So what is this suggestion?”

The baby kicks, as if wanting to know it as well, and Snow swallows. Suddenly speaking it aloud seems to make it more real that they're actually having a child, having a daughter.

“Emma,” she finally says. “It was the name of a princess in our realm long ago. She was beloved and ruled well, and they say she was born from true love also.”

“Emma,” he says softly, as if trying the name. 

“They said her name meant whole or universal,” she goes on.

“I like it,” he says after a moment, smiling. “I would love to have a daughter named Emma with you, Snow.”

“Then an Emma we shall have,” she says, then remembers he's not meant to know it's a daughter yet. “Someday.”

Before he can think more about her slight hesitation, she sits up and kisses him in the bright, warm sunlight, distracting him until he falls back onto the grass with her on top and they both thoroughly distract each other.

And Emma, Emma rests in her mother's womb and waits for the day she'll make their family whole; none of them can imagine it will take 28 years.


	55. Chapter 55

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ways-to-operation-hufflepuff prompted:  
> Prompt for the advent calender: Emma was never put into the wardrobe.

The baby is born to the joy of the whole kingdom, and only the distant thundering from Regina's castle can put a dent in her parents' happiness. But that worry is for the future. Right now, it is a good moment. 

Emma, she is named, and for the first day she stays in her parents' arms, Snow's and then Charming's and then Snow's again. It is as if they're afraid to let go, afraid that if they don't hold on to her she'll be gone to them. 

Their child. Their Emma. 

The first night, they stay with her in her nursery, watching over her and singing lullabies, a few from their own childhoods and a few they just make up. Charming gets into slight trouble with the lullaby about bandits and rocks, but does manage to kiss his way out of it. And so, Emma spends her first night in her nursery surrounded by toys, songs and her parents, as beloved as a child can be.

II

At one, Emma can walk and sort of talk in her own Emma language, and spends her days playing with mommy or daddy or Ruby or a dwarf, always surrounded by people who love her. Her hair has remained blonde, but gained curls, and the curls seems as willful as the child. 

Then again, what could you expect from the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming?

II

At two, Emma likes to sneak around. His bandit baby, Charming teases. But really, Emma has the determination of both her parents, and it's not uncommon for her to sneak her way into the council chambers during a meeting and ending up on mommy or daddy's lap while matters of the kingdom get discussed. 

One day, she's going to rule this kingdom, her parents have decided. It's fitting then that she already seems to rule the castle.

II

At three, Emma has a baby brother. Jacob. She isn't happy about that at first, so used to having her parents all to herself that then thought of sharing makes her cry and hide in a castle tower. It's Ruby who finds her there and gives her a stern talk about how lucky she is to have a brother, how some children never have that joy, and how love isn't like a bowl of food that needs to be shared. Love is magic. The more you love, the more love you have Ruby tells her, and wipes away her tears.

Emma thinks about loving mommy and daddy both, and thinks she might understand. 

II

At four, Emma gets a wooden sword from her daddy and is made his finest knight after defeating him in a battle, and she proudly shows it to her little brother. He smiles at her, and thinks about what daddy said about knights looking after those who needs protection.

In the morning, mommy finds Emma fallen asleep by her brother's crib, still clutching the wooden sword, having fallen asleep on guard duty. 

II

At six, Emma takes her baby brother on his first adventure. They sneak out through the secret entrance she knows of, and gets into the forest. Emma likes the forest, like sthe stories mommy tells about living there. 

They get into trouble when they get home again, with mommy and daddy angry and not even mollified by the flower crowns Jacob and her made for them. Not even crying helps, but finally daddy takes Emma into his lap and mommy takes Jacob into hers, and they tell them that they are angry because they are afraid, and afraid because not all people are good people. 

Emma has no idea what evil is, and falls asleep wondering about it.

II

At seven, Emma has another brother, but he dies during the night and mommy cries heartbrokenly in daddy's arms, and Emma thinks that this, this has to be what evil is. 

Something that painful has to be evil. 

II

At nine, Emma gets her first pony and loves it. She calls him Dragonfire, because you have to be fast to avoid a dragon's fire and her pony is fast to her. When daddy points out a horse is faster, she tells him her first horse will be Quick Dragonfire and he laughs and smiles and then spins her around happily. 

While they ride, she gets him to tell her about slaying the dragon again; one day, she vows to be just as big a hero as he was.

II

At ten, Emma has both a brother and a sister. Twins, which mommy blames daddy for and daddy happily takes the blame for. 

Jacob isn't happy about it, so Emma takes her brother to a castle tower and tells him about the magic of love, of how the more you love, the more love you have, just like Ruby told her.

II

At eleven, Emma kisses the stable boy. He's a cute stable boy, always looking after Dragonfire, and he blushes whenever he sees her. His lips are soft, but when he tries to kiss her back, she pulls away.

No magic, she thinks sadly. No curse broken, not even a spark. So it isn't true love, and Emma wants no less than what her parents have.

II

At thirteen, Emma goes with her parents on a journey around the kingdom and they talk about the responsibility of ruling and the weight of the crown. Emma doesn't understand all of it, but is starting to think that she will have to learn.

Only one part of the kingdom they avoid, the part with a dark castle that mommy never wants to talk about.

II

At fourteen, Emma doesn't want to rule. Emma wants to ride, to be a bandit, to be a hero, to do something that makes her name important.

She doesn't want to just be Snow and Charming's daughter. 

She wants to be Emma.

II

At sixteen, Emma runs away. She takes Quick Dragonfire and rides, rides far until she doesn't even know where she is. She sleeps under the open sky and tries to feel free, but wakes several times during the night worried about how her parents are feeling. 

In the morning, she meets a kindly old woman in the forest who offers to show her the way home. Regina, the old woman calls herself, and then smiles and reaches into Emma's chest for her heart. 

The wave of magic knocks Regina out and leaves Emma breathless with wonder. Love is magic, aunt Ruby told her. She didn't expect it to be so literal.

She goes home again, with her heart and to her heart – her family, who are overjoyed to see her.

II

At seventeen, Emma Swan discovers her magic. Jacob and the twins sleep, but she stays up to watch the flames flickering across her palms in delight. 

This will worry her parents, she knows. They always worry about the price of magic, having seen it used for so much bad.

Emma is going to use it for good, she decides. She thinks she knows how to be Emma now, after all. 

She's the product of true love, the daughter of Snow and Charming, the heir to the kingdom. All those things she was born into, and so wrongly assumed they defined her when she wanted to define herself.

She was wrong. 

What defines her, what makes her Emma, is what she does with it all, and she, she is going to do good. Like a hero. Like a good queen.

Like a savior.


	56. Chapter 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon prompted:  
> Plz plz something Snowing after 3x11 & dealing with the loss of Emma again

Now we just go back to being stories, Regina told Emma.

Stories hold power, Snow has always known. They can hold dreams and desires, they can cam explain and ask questions, and they give hope. They’re powerful.

Every night, Snow clings to the power of stories as Charming tells one about how Emma and Henry’s day went.

There is no way to know if they’re true, of course. They haven’t seen Emma since she drove away in her yellow bug and they had to give her up again, and they will never see her again. Not if all goes well, and Snow simply can’t make herself wish that Emma’s happy ending be spoiled. Not even to see her again.

But the stories could be true, and that’s enough for Snow.

So she listens, head on Charming’s chest as he weaves a tale about their daughter and their grandson. They’re happy stories, sometimes silly stories, about everyday adventures of a little family. It’s a special school project one day, lost car keys another, a hostile toaster as a recurring theme and late night movie nights with hot chocolate with cinnamon at least once a week.

If Snow closes her eyes, she can easily imagine it. She can see Emma tease Henry, see Henry try to battle the toaster into submission for his mother, see the two of them fall asleep together on the couch while rain taps on the class. She can see them live happily ever after, mother and son, true love as a family.

Charming’s voice is always steady as he talks, but every now and then she can hear the longing and sadness creep into his voice. She kisses his chest then, and he kisses the top of her head and they hold on to each other with something akin to desperation.

On some night they cannot sleep at all, and so Charming tells stories into the morning, trying so very hard to make the loss bearable to them both.

When Snow discovers herself to be pregnant, the stories don’t end. They just gain another listener, namely the growing life inside her, the boy that will be their son. Emma’s baby brother

Sometimes, Snow imagines that Emma tells Henry stories too, Maybe even fairy tales. Maybe even the one about Snow White and her prince. Henry would probably declare it boring, and so Emma would make a new version, one where Snow is a badass and her prince no less so, and the Evil Queen can be redeemed.

A story.

Now we just go back to being stories, Regina told Emma. But stories are important. Stories matter.

Snow and Charming make Emma and Henry a story that never ends; it’s the only way they can still live with their daughter and grandson now.


	57. Chapter 57

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> narniangriff23 prompted:  
> Henry and Gramps and some of the others trying to pull off Operation Secret Santa for the 12 days of Christmas

Emma doesn’t believe in Elves. Oh, she’s learned to believe in dragons and magic and true love and Snow White and Prince Charming as her parents, but she very firmly does not believe in Santa’s Elves.

So the gift that she finds wrapped on her night stand is definitely from someone in her household. Mary Margaret, Henry and David are all options, and she can’t really rule either of them out. All of them are likely candidates for some sort of Secret Santa thing.

She makes no mention of her gift at breakfast, trying to see if anyone is looking at her extra carefully as if trying to gauge her reaction. But her family is chatting amicably around her and smile at each other with easy smiles, and all she can see is happiness. Radiant, beaming happiness.

Their first Christmas as a family, she knows, and feels herself smiling as she watches David ruffle Henry’s hair and Mary Margaret stroke David’s arm.

The second morning of Christmas there is also a gift on her night stand, this one wrapped in a slightly more elaborate manner. It makes Mary Margaret the new prime suspect, and she remains so until the next morning when another gift is found; that one is far more simply wrapped.

Perhaps the guilty party is smart enough to attempt to throw her off, Emma reasons, and starts watching her father carefully. She’s almost convinced of his guilt, at least until he has to spend a night dealing with a runaway banshee (taking Mary Margaret with him) and a gift still appears at her night stand in the morning despite her parents not being home until lunch.

Henry, then. Except she isn’t sure about that either, because she’s seen how he wraps gifts before and most of these are a step up from that.

The gifts continue, one every morning. She saves them all, making a small pile of them trying to look for clues in the wrapping. But after 12 days of gifts, she is no closer to determining which of her three suspects is the culprit. Some gifts seem to point towards Mary Margaret, some to Henry and some to David. So one morning she walks into the kitchen, her family all looking up at her as she enter.

“So which of you was my secret Santa?” she asks, and the three exchange glances. “I know it’s one of you, as there are no elves.”

“Actually…” her mother starts, and Emma groans. “They aren’t anything like the stories of this world would have you believe, but there are elves.”

“Did any of them leave presents at my night stand every morning these last twelve days?” Emma asks.

“It wasn’t one of us,” David says, and Emma shoots him a disbelieving glance. “It’s true!”

“Your father is right,” Mary Margaret says softly. “It was all of us.”

“Operation Secret Santa!” Henry says happily.

“Henry suggested the name,” David says affectionately. “All of us wanted to make this Christmas special for you so we worked together. We’re all guilty, I’m afraid.”

Emma swallows, and then swallows again. Her family is looking at her, David and Mary with open, bright gazes that always make her feel loved, and she detects nothing but love and the slightest hint of sadness in them. (Emma now knows that slight hint of sadness will always linger. It’s how her parents feel about having had to give her up.) Henry is just happy, but the love is no less.

They all did it, she thinks.

“Did you open them?” Henry asks eagerly.

“No,” she manages to say, finding her voice. “How about we go upstairs and get them all and you help me open them, kid?”

Henry beams, and Mary Margaret and David smile at his eagerness. As he bolts up the stairs to help her carry them, she lifts her gaze to her parents. David’s arm is resting across Mary Margret’s shoulder, caressing gently, and Emma wonders just when her parents being affectionate became such an endearing thing to her. (Though they could cut down on the making out in the kitchen/living room/bathroom parts.)

“Thanks,” she says, hearing her own voice catch. David and Mary Margaret just smile at her, but their eyes are teary.

“Come on, mom! I want to know what Gramps and Grams got you!” Henry calls impatiently.

“Coming!” she calls up to him, and with a last smile to her parents, she heads upstairs too. Henry will want to unwrap her gifts quickly, she knows, but to her what is in them is less important. It’s the gesture, and what the gesture says.

She is loved by a family; her family.


	58. Chapter 58

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon promoted:  
> Reunion sex, Snow/Charming in Neverland after Charming has been cured. He’s so happy to see her again, but they have to be quiet since the others are nearby.

He can’t stop touching her.

Just hours ago he thought he would die, that he would have to leave his wife to heartbreak and his daughter to another loss. The thought of it nearly killed him right along with the poison. To cause his family such pain… No. He would die to prevent it, only he now knows dying would actually cause it.

But he lives. His life has a price, but right now he doesn’t think about the price. He thinks only of the woman in his arms, his beloved who is meeting his increasing frantic kisses with soft, reassuring lips.

“Charming, what has gotten into you?” she murmurs, drawing her hand across his chest.

Fear, he doesn’t say. Relief. Having to face parting from her. Her. Always her, as she is in him like a part of him by now.

“I love you,” he says instead, then slants his mouth across hers and feels rather than hears her throaty moan. They don’t have much time, he knows. They have planning to do, a grandson to save, and Regina has been mentioning giving Emma a magic lesson.

But he will steal a moment with his wife first.

With a word, he takes her hand and leads her slightly further into the jungle. Not too far, and still within short distance of the camp, but far enough for a little privacy.

Snow looks at him through lowered eyelids as he backs her into a tree. Her breath is already shallow, and her lips part in a breathless sigh as he lowers his head to her neck.

“Snow,” he says, kissing it into her skin. He might call her Mary Margaret for Emma’s sake, but the name he holds for her in his heart will always be Snow.

She digs her fingers into his shoulder, pressing against his body. The curves and shapes of her body are familiar, and he still longs to explore and caress thoroughly. No time for that now, though.

He sinks down to his knees, feeling her hands come to rest on his head and twisting his hair lightly as he pulls one boot off her, then the other. The leggings are slightly more trouble pulling off, but he manages with a triumphant growl.

She growls too, as he presses his hand between her legs. “Charming.”

“Yes, Snow?” he says lightly, watching her as he strokes his fingers back and forth, back and forth. When he presses his thumb down, she hisses and digs her fingers into his scalp.

He could do this all day and be perfectly happy, he knows, always loving seeing her so lost to pleasure. But his own need is dark and insistent, and he lifts himself up to kiss her again, and again while he fumbles his jeans down far enough.

She locks her legs around him as he lifts her up, and then he slides into her with a shuddering groan. Everything is all right in this moment, as he’s with her, wrapped in her, and in her. Snow. Snow, Snow, Snow, and he makes her name a rhythm that he follows as he moves inside her.

She welcomes his sharp, quick thrusts with moans into his mouth, as well as the occasional scarping of her teeth against his lower lip. They have to be quiet, they both know, with the camp so close, and so swallows the sound of the other. Her moans, his growls, both their panting.

She bites down hard on his lip as she comes, and he follows with a soundless cry of her name right after. He can’t hold her up anymore, and so they sink down to the ground below the tree, still all tangled in each other.

As they regain their sense, Snow kisses his lower lip lovingly, brushing her thumb across the slight marks from her teeth.

“Not that I’m complaining,” she murmurs, and he smiles, “but what was that about?”

“You,” he does say, lifting his hand to cup her cheek. “It’s always about you.”

It is, after all. She’s his wife, the mother of his daughter, his true love. His Snow, as he is her Charming, each having claimed a part of the other. They’re no longer complete without the other.

And so, he kisses her softly and tries to forget that he nearly lost her and she him, and tries to chase away the fear that it might happen one day.


	59. Chapter 59

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sassysnow1988 prompted:  
> If there’s any spaces left in the Advent Calendar: Snow discovering she is pregnant after they get sent back to the Enchanted Forest.

Heartbreak, Snow knows, won’t actually kill you. She’s survived it before, when she had to break Charming’s heart to save his life, the countless times she’s thought she’s lost him to some danger, and of course when she had to give Emma up the first time.

The second is no less heartbreaking for being familiar. Again, they have to give up their daughter for her best chance, for her chance at a happy ending. At least they know she can have it this time, with Henry in her life, and Snow clings to that knowledge as a lifeline. (Just as she did the hope that Emma would indeed find them the first time.)

It still hurts. They won’t be there to see their daughter happy, won’t be there to support her when she needs, or simply be there when she wants them to be. They’ll be a family in Snow and Charming’s memory only.

Heartbreak won’t kill you, Snow knows. But there are days when she wonders how they’ll be able to bear it.

II

She watches her first sunrise back in the Enchanted Forest while Charming holds her hand, and tries to feel like this is a new beginning and not just an end.

At least she has him, her heart and home, and she kisses him in the dawning light of a new day.

II

Nothing of Storybrooke remains, which means they don’t even have a memento of Emma to cling to. No pictures. No baby blanket. No clothes she wore, no jewelry she had, not even the toaster she frequently fought with. Nothing.

Snow longs for something to remember her daughter by, and tells Charming this one evening while she clings to him in bed.

He smiles sadly at her, pressing a kiss against her temple. “I know. We could have a portrait made if you wish. But Snow, she did give us something we still have with us.”

“What?” she asks.

“A part of her heart,” he says softly, and she wishes more than anything that he is right.

II

One night she can’t sleep, she finds Regina being similarly awake, watching the stars as if trying to make a wish on them. But all the stars in all the skies might not be enough for what Regina wishes, Snow knows.

So she sits next to her step-mother, her longtime enemy now turned something else, and the mother of her grandson.

“I know now,” Regina says hollowly.

“Know what?” Snow asks.

“What I did when I made you give up your child,” Regina says, and Snow nods very slowly. Yes. This is the pain of having to give up a child, something Snow would never wish upon anyone, but nevertheless the pain she knows, Emma knew and now Regina knows.

“I’m sorry, Regina,” Snow says, and means it; perhaps one day Regina will tell her the same and mean it too.

II

The weeks pass, life moves on, and hearts, while easily broken, also prove to be stronger than any mental. Because they live on, Snow and Charming and even Regina, live on with the memories.

And new beginnings sneak up on them all, Regina when she meets Robin Hood and little Roland, and Snow when Doc tells her two simple words.

She seeks out Charming right away, finding him watching the small portrait of Emma they’ve gotten painted. Quietly, she slips her hand into his and watches with him for a while, until he sighs sadly and then smiles at her.

“I miss her,” he says simply, and she nods. They always will. But they wanted Emma to have her happy ending, and she rather thinks their daughter loved them enough to want happiness for them too.

“Charming,” she says softly, lifting their linked hands to rest against her stomach. “I’m pregnant.”

His breath catches, and then he kisses her lovingly and reverently under the picture of their daughter and in the light of a new day. It’s heartbreaking and heartening at the same time, a new baby and a lost girl.

Maybe that’s how hearts remain so strong even broke, Snow thinks, as she leans her forehead against his. As long as hearts love, they can always piece together something new of what was broken.


	60. Chapter 60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon prompted:  
> Honeymoon at the summer palace & Snow tells Charming that never in her wildest dreams did she ever imagine finding an incredibly handsome man on her childhood bed.

Snow wakes slowly, feeling light against her eyelids and a gradual awareness of her surroundings. She keeps her eyes closed, instead focusing on the sensations that are slowly filtering through to her mind.

There is a warm body next to her and halfway underneath her, a hand at her back below the covers, while one of her hands is resting against the smooth skin of a man’s chest. He is breathing softly, and if she presses her palm more firmly to his chest she imagines she could feel his heartbeats too.

Yesterday, she kissed the skin above his heart after he whispered that it was hers. It wasn’t the only part of him she kissed, though. She has one leg between his, and she can feel the muscles of his thigh against her skin, and remembers trailing kisses along them while he watched her through lowered eyelids.

Her own muscles are slightly sore from the evening before. Their wedding night. Their official wedding night, and the start of their honeymoon. But most importantly it was the start of their life together. She is waking up next to Charming, as she will do most of her days for the rest of her life.

She smiles at that, and then finds her lips suddenly caught by Charming’s as he kisses her softly.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, kissing her again.

“Morning,” she echoes, keeping her eyes closed for a moment longer while he steals yet another kiss. Finally, she opens her eyes to see him beam at her, his expression so infused with happiness that her breath catches.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She imagines her hair is a wild mess, but he seems either to not care or simply find it beautiful from the way he is looking at her.

“I did, once we finally got to the sleeping part,” she says, blushing slightly. He just grins, kissing her yet again.

“No nightmares?” he suddenly says, suddenly looking worried. She remembers the nights he’s woken her from yet another nightmare caused by the sleeping curse, and glances over at the night stand. There is a candle ready there, she realizes, and feels the love for him like a sudden painful ache.

“None at all,” she reassures him, lifting a hand to his cheek and caressing lovingly. “Only good dreams. This is a place of good dreams. As a young girl, I always dreamt of taking my husband here.”

“Mmm,” he murmurs, his fingers making light patterns across her back. “Did you ever dream of waking up like this?”

“With an incredibly handsome man, a right Prince Charming, on my childhood bed?” she jokes, drawing her thumb across his lower lip. “Not even in my wildest dreams. My dreams used to end with hand-holding and chaste kisses. I was a girl, after all.”

He grins, then captures one of her hands with his own and intertwine their fingers. Gently, he leans forward and brushes a soft, chaste kiss against her lips. “Like that?”

“Mmm,” she says, smiling at him. “But that was the girl’s dream. I told you once before. I’m not a girl, I’m a woman.”

“I have the scar to remember that by,” he says fondly, smiling back at her. “So what does the woman want?”

She gives him a long, thoughtful look as if she’s considering her options, feeling her toes curl at the expression of his face. He wants. Oh, he wants her, just as she wants him.

“I think I will have to show you,” she finally says, lifting herself up slightly and making sure her breasts brush against his chest in a way that makes him moan softly.

“I think so too,” he agrees, and then she kisses him quite unchastely and very happily, feeling her body being quite awake now too.

This is how she would like to wake up next to Charming, every morning for the rest of her life, she decides, and hopes it will be a dream come true.

(It won’t.)


	61. Chapter 61

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon promoted:  
> prompt for advent calendar: Snow and Charming’s very first Christmas together in the enchanted forest :)

Her husband may have gone slightly overboard in the decorating department, Snow considers, taking in their bedroom. Every inch is as decorated as the hall, which itself is practically glittering like some sort of long lost treasure trove.

“Do you like it?” Charming asks beside her, sounding hopeful and happy.

“Very seasonal,” she manages to say, then tilts her head. “Charming, why is there mistletoe hanging over our bed?”

His smile is so playful she has to bite her lip not to kiss him then and there. “It’s a good place to kiss, don’t you think?”

“It is,” she agrees. “Which is why we do it every evening and morning and sometimes even at midday. I don’t recall any mistletoe needed then.”

“Think of it as an extra incentive,” he says, and this time biting her lip just won’t do. So she tip-toes and pulls him to her in a kiss, biting lightly at his lower lip while at it. He hums happily at her enthusiasm, then kisses her back with equal fervor.

They’re both slightly breathless when they pull apart, and Snow rests her forehead against his.

“I may have gone a bit overboard,” he admits. “I just…”

“What?” she asks softly.

“We never had any money for decorations at the farm,” he says quietly. “I have no idea how to decorate for Christmas. I just wanted to make sure our first Christmas together was as good as I could make it.”

She swallows. He acts so much like what a prince and knight should be sometimes that she forgets he was raised a shepherd.

“You don’t have to decorate the whole castle to give me a good Christmas,” she tells him softly, brushing her thumb across his lips. “Just having you will do. And…”

“And what?” he asks, as she takes his hands in hers and places them on her stomach. He draws a sharp breath. “Snow?”

“Yes,” she says, beaming at him as understanding dawns on his face. “We’re going to have the best gift we could possibly imagine sometime next year. I’m pregnant, Charming. But don’t you dare gift-wrap my stomach!”

He laughs, then lifts her up and swings her around in delight while kissing her, and she laughs at his joy.

“I have all I ever want,” he promises her. “A family, Snow. We’re going to be a family.”

“Yes,” she agrees, as he lowers her back on her feet and kisses her forehead reverently. “Next Christmas we’ll spend with our child too.”

“I can’t wait,” he says, putting his hands on her stomach again. She smiles at him, imaging him with a child in his arms and just as many decorations everywhere. The start of a line of family Christmases, their family Christmases.

She can’t wait; she doesn’t yet know she’ll have to.


	62. Chapter 62

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon prompted:  
> Thanksgiving/Christmas with the Charmings

Emma Swan have never loved Christmas.

It was after all a holiday very much centered around family, and she had none. She had one Christmas with a family, one, and then they had a child of her own and suddenly they weren’t her family anymore.

Christmas became something for everyone else, and simply loneliness for her. Even the Christmas carols would sound hollow and mocking, and the Christmas lights would seem distant like stars far away that she couldn’t reach.

It just wasn’t for her.

And then… Then she suddenly had someone to spend it with. Last Christmas, Mary Margaret was simply her friend, and they had a quiet lovely Christmas together that was far too sentimental for Emma’s tastes, but that she enjoyed for Mary Margaret’s sake. Henry snuck out on Christmas Eve to give Emma a secret gift, and they hugged in the snow while the stars shone overhead.

It had been a lovely Christmas, and she would have been content to have every Christmas like that from then on. Still not a holiday for her, but a holiday she could take part in nevertheless.

And then the curse broke. Mary Margaret was her mom and David was her dad, and she actually had a family with parents and a son.

So now, this Christmas Eve, it actually is her holiday, with family activities that includes her: Christmas carols to sing along to with Henry;Christmas lights to light up outside with David; a Christmas dinner to help Mary Margaret prepare and serve; and eggnog for all the adults to enjoy that was far too strong and made David and Mary Margaret start flirting and kissing far too much. And food for everyone, so much food it could feed a kingdom.

David even gets them all Christmas decorated bear-claws as a sort of dessert, something that makes Emma pull him into a fierce hug in the kitchen. He sighs happily and then wraps his arms around her, and Mary Margaret watches them with a soft smile.

Emma decides to blame the eggnog later, but for now, she hugs her mother too, and then Henry and even agrees to wear the Santa hat Henry has gotten her.

The gifts are for unwrapping in the morning, but she can already see the huge pile with her name on it. It easily rivals Henry’s, and makes her wonder if she’s about to get 28 years of Christmas presents in one go.

She spent far too long finding presents for them, for Henry and David and Mary Margaret, second-guessing herself at every purchase. But still, she almost enjoyed the experience, feeling a slight thrill every time she found something she knew they would love.

She’s actually looking forward to the morning, to Christmas Day, she realizes, and wonders if this is the joy all children with families feel at Christmas.

They end up on the couch at the end of the evening, Henry nestled against Emma’s side, David with an arm around Emma and Mary Margaret curled up in his lap. The lights on their Christmas tree sparkle at her, and she watches them quietly while the radio in the kitchen keeps playing Christmas carols.

“Merry Christmas, Emma,” her father whispers to her, kissing the side of her head softly. Mary Margaret has fallen asleep already, and he’s stoking her hair affectionately and lovingly. It takes her a moment to realize she’s stroking Henry’s hair the same way.

Love, she thinks, closing her eyes. She is loved, and she loves, and all the silly movies about the meaning of Christmas suddenly seem to make alarmingly mushy sense. She isn’t removed from it any more. It isn’t a holiday for everyone else. It’s for her too, and her family.

“Merry Christmas, dad,” she whispers, and actually feels it.

Emma Swan never loved Christmas because she had no family to love.

That changed.


	63. Chapter 63

_Prompt: Snow thinking about Charming after she reunites Ariel and Prince Eric._

It must be nice, Snow thinks faintly, to be able to go find your prince. 

Ariel is swimming off to find her Eric, and it will work out for them, Snow has no doubt. She doesn't allow herself to doubt that. It's too important to think that sometimes, it's possible to find your prince.

She has another reason to cling to that belief, of course. A very selfish, silly reason.

Charming. 

She's tried not to think about him, but her mind (and heart) seems to have a will of its own. It is as if he's haunting her, or maybe it's her refusing to quite let him go. Which is silly, and selfish, because he's engaged to marry another, and has obligations to his kingdom, and is a prince and...

She's just Snow White, the bandit, now. It feels like a lifetime ago, another life, that she was a princess and Charming would be exactly the sort of man she could have married. Could have loved. Could have...

She bites her lip, trying to force back the urge to do what she told Ariel to do, go find her prince. She knows the castle Charming lives in. She could sneak into it well enough, find his chambers, find him – and if he looked at her the same way he looked at her as she tried on his mother's ring, she would push him against the wall and kiss him breathless. 

He would like that, she imagines. He might even kiss her back with equal force, lifting her up and not letting her go, never letting her go. 

No.

She forces the fantasy back. That's just what it is, after all. A fantasy. Ariel can go find her prince because he has nothing to lose loving her. Charming has everything to lose, and she doesn't even know if he truly feels the same way. She isn't even sure what would be worse, that he does feel the same way and pines for her as she does him, or that he doesn't and doesn't think of her at all. 

Perhaps it doesn't matter. It's only the fantasy of a bandit who can't go find her prince. There couldn't be a love story for Snow White and Prince Charming, finding each other.. Could there?

It would be nice if it could, Snow thinks faintly, and then tries not to think about it again – even knowing she'll fail.


	64. Chapter 64

_prompt: Snow teasingly tells Emma where she was conceived despite Emma's attempts to stop her._

Somehow, her parents' castle feels much, much larger when restored and filled with the splendor or fairy tale royalty, Emma finds. Which is utterly illogical, given that empty and ruined, it would have had much more space. Yet it didn't feel as overwhelmingly large and grand when she was last here.

But maybe it's not the castle that has changed. Maybe it's her. Last time she was here to find a way home. Now this is her new home, just as the Enchanted Forest is her new world – and it feels too large. Her parents feel almost distant to her here as well, so very much Snow and Charming and not quite David and Mary Margaret. She got used to thinking of David and Mary Margaret as mom and dad, even came to love having them as that, but Snow and Charming... She has seen glimpses of them before, even got to spend some time with them in their world when she went back in time, but she isn't sure how she feels about living with them.

Henry of course loves it. He loves the horses and the prospect of being a prince, and his excitement is really enough for two. Even her little brother Neal seems to love the castle, driving her parents to near anxious madness with his tendency to want to play hide and not caring if anyone is playing seek. 

Her parents clearly enjoy being home too, exchanging glances and smiles Emma knows what means. (She is starting to learn the silent language those two seem to share, though sometimes she wishes she didn't when they exchange particulary heated glances.) This is their home. Neal and Henry seem to embrace it as their new home as well.

That leaves her. 

She tries faking excitement, but the problem with knowing your parents quite well is of course that they learn to know you just as well. So she isn't entirely surprised when one morning, Snow leaves Neal on daddy's shoulders and takes Emma's hand and walks her through the castle.

She talks about it as they walk, pointing out secret hallways, a shortcut to the kitchen, the smaller kitchen where there are no sevants and it's possible to make food on your own, the hallways, the council chambers, the various towers, the library and the windows with the best views of the lake.

Emma just listens, at least until Snow smiles softly at her and pauses by a doorway. “Am I overwhelming you?”

For a moment, Emma is tempted to lie, but she bites back the urge. She doesn't need walls with her parents. She knows that now. Old habits just die hard.

“A bit.”

Snow nods, squeezing her hand. “Your father was the same.”

“He was?” Emma asks, feeling surprised. Her father seems so at home here it's hard to imagine him anywhere else.

“He was,” Snow confirms. She smiles distantly, as if remembering something. “He wasn't raised here. He was a shepherd living on a small farm before he took his brother's place.”

Emma nods slowly. She knows some of this story, and some of it she read in Henry's book as well. It just seems so strange to consider David anything but what he is now.

“He tried to show me around one of the first days after we had reclaimed the castle,” Snow goes on, still smiling. “He got us lost.”

Emma has to smile at that. “So you're only good at finding each other and not finding anything else?”

As lame a joke as it is, Snow still laughs. “Not really. I'm an expert tracker and knew exactly where we were. I just enjoyed having him all to myself.”

“Mom!” Emma protests. 

Snow just smiles, making Emma groan. Great. Her parents probably made out against every wall of this castle at some point and probably will again now.

“The point is, this wasn't Charming's home when he came here,” Snow says after a moment, and Emma looks up at her. “It wasn't mine either. It was just a castle.”

Her mother's gaze is warm and understanding, and Emma has to swallow a lump in her throat. “This is just a castle to me.”

“I know,” Snow says gently. “It was just a castle to me as well. What made it a home was Charming. I married him here. I fell asleep with him every night and woke up with him every morning. We argued here and made up here. We had you here...”

“Mom!” Emma protests again. “I do not need to know where I was conceived.”

Snow gives her a teasing look. “I was actually thinking of when you were born.”

“Oh.”

“But now that you mention it...”

“ _Mom_.”

Snow grins, the sort of grin she usually directs at David and usually has Emma cover her eyes since it's usually followed by kissing. “It was in this room.”

Emma groans. Of course it would be. She's not even going to look inside and see what sort of room her parents would do things she doesn't want to imagine. Nope. Not even curious where she was conceieved. Nope.

“I get what you're telling me,” she says after a moment instead. “It became your home.”

Snow nods. “Because I had the people I loved here.”

“I have the people I love here,” Emma manages to say, glancing down at their linked hands. Her mother. She has her mother, and her father, and Henry, and her brother Neal and... “I love you, mom.”

“Oh, Emma,” Snow says, pulling her into a fierce hug. “I love you too, honey.”

Emma leans into the embrace, allowing herself to be held. Maybe Snow is right. Maybe this castle will feel like home some day too, since it holds all the people she can't seem to feel at home without anymore. Her family.

And it is a nice enough castle, she admits to herself, with all sorts of rooms. Hell, glancing into the room from Snow's shoulder she can see now that this castle even has something Henry will really enjoy and... Wait.

This was the room that...

Oh hell.

“Mom! In the _armory_?!”


	65. Chapter 65

_(prompt) can you write snowing having some fun in the castle's library?_

This wasn't entirely what he had in mind when he offered to show Snow the castle library, Charming thinks distantly, feeling the hard edges of books against his back and the soft curves of Snow pressed against his front. Not that he's complaining, but all he honestly and innocently intended was to offer Snow all the books that he could find, having learned how she enjoyed reading when younger.

How was he to know his twin brother had an extremely interesting book with several illustrations of very amorous activities? Activities that apparently Snow would like to try out?

“Snow,” he murmurs against her lips, her name turning into a moan as she draws her nails across his chest, having managed to pull his shirt almost off. “I wasn't trying to...”

“You said so three times already,” she says, looking up at him with an expression that nealry makes his knees buckle. “Now shut up and ravish me.”

“So far it's you ravishing me,” he manages to say, and she smiles wickedly at him. Right. If that's how she wants it...

She makes something akin to a yelp as he suddenly twists her around, pining her against the bookshelves. Before she can do anything further, he takes hold of her wrists and locks her hands above her head with one of his hands. The other he lets wander down her side, settling on her hip.

Her lips part as he nuzzles his head against her neck, kissing her skin and feeling her arch against his body in response. She makes soft moans too, as he kisses the top of her breasts and then begins to work on pulling her dress down and kissing all the skin it exposes.

At least she's wearing a rather light dress and not some elaborate ball gown. He's tried to get those off her before while having her pinned against a wall, so he knows that takes a lot of frustrating effort.

This will be much easier, he decides, as he slips his hand underneath her dress. He keeps his eyes on her face, watching the color in her cheeks as he draws his hand across the silk of her underwear. She appears to have put on something light there as well, which will definitely make things even easier.

It's almost as if she had forseen this possibility. Hmmm.

Before he can continue that trails of thought, Snow manages to pull free of his grasp while he distracted elsewhere, catching his head in her hands and pulling him into a hard, demanding kiss. He doesn't mind, as it allows him to use both hands and pull her underwear off. She bites down on his lip as he parts her legs slightly, then uses his fingers to caress her lightly just there. He can feel her chest rise and fall against his with every ragged breath as he continues, and he keeps kissing her too, until they're both panting and her whole body is arched into him and he can feel the impatience in her.

He can also feel her hands working impatiently at his leather pants, making him chuckle.

He pulls back slightly and smiles at her, feeling a moment of overwhelming tenderness in all the lust. Oh, how he loves her, his impatient wife that fiercely claims what she wants. From him too, and she makes a triumphant growl as she pushes his leather pants down and then his underwear.

He's already hard, but the light stroke she gives him would probably managed that feat even if he hadn't been. As it is, it makes him grit his teeth and ache with the want of her, but before she can do it again, he pins her against the bookshelf again.

“Charming,” she protests, and he runs his thumb across her soft, warm lips.

“Shut up and be ravished,” he teases in a low voice, and her lips part and he kisses her deeply, letting go of her hands to lift her up instead. She links her legs around his waist and her hands around his neck as he presses her against the bookshelf and pushes into her in one hard stroke.

He sighs into the kiss at the feeling of it, as deep inside her as he can be, and her muscles clenching around him in response. Snow, oh Snow, everything Snow as he makes a few slow, hard thrusts before increasing the pace. She moans in enouragement at that, digging her nails into his skin as he continues. It is hard to think clearly with the rush of sensations, but he manages to keep his mind on her too, snaking a hand down to use his fingers every time he thrusts.

He manages to came her come just before he does, but only by a few seconds. He manages to steady them both against the bookshelf, then sits down with her in his lap while they both struggle for breath.

She nestles against him after a while, kissing his neck. He imagines he has some fairly impressive marks from her fingers and nails, but he can't make himself care too much. Her dress is a mess as well, and he's not actually sure where her underwear ended up. They'll just have to sneak into their chambers without being spotted by the servants. It's not like they haven't had to do that before.

“I like the library,” Snow says against his skin, and he chuckles.

“It really wasn't my book though,” he says, thinking of the item that got all this started.

“I know,” Snow says, and he turns his head to look at her. She smiles. “I've known about the library for weeks. One of the servants showed me.”

“Oh,” he says.

“But Charming,” she says, moving to straddle him and he already knows they're not getting out of the library any time soon. “The book is actually mine.”

“It's yours?” he repeats, his suspicion about the planned nature of all this now very much confirmed.

“Yes,” she confirms, biting her lip. “Granny gave it to me before our wedding night. Are you mad?”

“Yes,” he says, and her face fall. “Utterly and completely mad about you.”

She smacks his chest and he kisses her, showing her just how very mad he is and always will be.

And as it turns out, the library actually has a lot of very good books to ravish your wife on – and be ravished right back, of course.


	66. Chapter 66

_Emma finds out she's pregnant with her second child, and shortly after, Snow finds out she's pregnant with her third, so they're pregnant at the same time._

Emma never planned to get pregnant. Henry had been an accident, although one she is now happier about than she could ever imagine. Not just because he's Henry and she loves him fiercely, but also because he brought her home and she now has her parents too.

But still, the pregnancy wasn't planned.

Neither is this one.

She stares at the third test with something akin to fear. Oh, it's positive all right. Just like the two others. She's pregnant.

Pregnant.

Knocked up.

And the bastard who did it, the bastard she does love, he'll probably want to do the honorable thing and David will probably want to murder him and Emma isn't sure if she wants to laugh or cry at it all.

She does know one thing she wants, though.

Mom.

II

Mary Margaret is smiling as she opens the door, and Emma lets herself be pulled into a motherly hug. As the years have passed, thinking of and calling Mary Margaret 'mom' has become easier and easier, even if the weirdness of the age thing never quite goes away.

"Hi, honey," Mary Margaret murmurs into her hair. "I thought you were coming to dinner."

"I am. I'm just... Early," Emma replies, pulling back and feeling her mother look at her curiously. "Is dad here too?"

"He took your brother to the park," Mary Margaret replies, and Emma has to smile at that. Her father is an extremely dedicated and loving dad, and it makes her heart ache a little with what she might have had. "He'll be back soon."

Emma nods, and Mary Margaret seems to catch on that there is something amiss, because she leads Emma gently to a chair and sits down opposite her.

"What's the matter?"

Emma swallows. "I'm... Pregnant."

Mary Margaret stares at her. "You're... Pregnant?"

"Yeah. I think three postitives tests confirms that."

Mary Margaret stares at her for a few seconds more, then pulls her into another hug. "Oh, honey."

Emma leans into it, resting her head against her mother's shoulder, feeling some of the tension drain away from her. Her mother strokes her back soothingly, comfort and reassurance both.

"I think I want this child," Emma finally manages to say, naming the fear that has been gnawing at her since she suspected she was pregant. The fear of actually wanting this child, wanting it so very much. "I know I'm not mother of the year..."

"You're a great mother," Mary Margaret says sternly, pulling back to cradle her face. "Emma, you've been great with Henry."

Emma manages to smile, feeling tears prickle her eyes slightly. "I remember raising him. I know the memories aren't real, but now that I have them and know what I missed, I want the chance to..."

"To raise a child," Mary Margaret says, and her smile is almost sad. "I know. It doesn't make you love Henry any less, Emma. Your father and I don't love you any less for having Neal."

"I know," Emma says. "Do think Henry will..."

"I think Henry will love having a baby brother or sister," Mary Margaret says firmly. "You've seen him with Neal. He loves being the big brother even to his uncle."

Emma can only nod. "I haven't told Henry yet. I haven't told anyone except you."

Mary Margaret nods. She hasn't asked who the father is, Emma notes, probably because she damn well knows.

"We'll be there with you every step of the way," Mary Margaret promises. "I know your father will love being a grandfather again. At least after he's calmed down and put his sword away."

Emma laughs softly, even if she isn't sure if it's entirely a joke. "At least he is pretty adept at handling pregnant women by now."

Mary Margaret smiles fondly. "Yeah, he's been through it twice with me. The morning sickness and the weird food cravings and all of that. I think we both know the in and outs of... a pregnancy... very well... by now..."

Mary Margaret trails off, then looks as if she's had a sudden realization. Her eyes widen and her lips part, and she glances down at her stomach.

"Mom?"

"I think I need to make a trip to the drug store," Mary Margaret says, and Emma isn't sure if she wants to laugh or cry at where this seems to be going.

II

They settle for only two sets with Mary Margaret, but sure enough, they're both positive.

"I'm pregnant," Mary Margaret says in disbelief. "We weren't even trying!"

"But you're happy about it," Emma says, because she knows her mother will be.

Mary Margaret nods, and then smiles beautifully, and this time it's Emma who pulls her into a hug.

"Good for you," Emma says firmly, forcing that tiny ache of what might have been back yet again.

"Oh, Emma," Mary Margaret says, and Emma thinks she might hear that tiny ache in her mother's voice as well. They cling to each other for several minutes, and only pull apart when the door opens and David walks in with a very muddy Neal on his shoulders. He can obviously tell something is happening, as he pauses immediately and gives Mary Margaret a look.

"Why don't you put Neal into a bath and then come join us?" Mary Margaret suggests softly, moving over to give him a soft kiss. "Emma and I have some news to share."

David looks highly suspicious about that, but gives Mary Margaret an indulgent smile and another quick kiss before vanishing into the bathroom with Neal.

"He's in for a bit of a shock," Emma observes lightly, wondering if she should get the alcohol out for him or not.

"Mmm," Mary Margaret agrees. "It's not every day you get to find out you're becoming a father and a grandfather again."

At the absurdity of that, Emma laughs. "You do realize you're becoming a mother and a grandmother at the same time as well?"

"And you're becoming a mother and a big sister again."

Emma laughs again, just as David walks out of the bathroom. He's clearly gotten a bit splashed by Neal, but seems entirely unbothered by it.

He smiles at her as he catches her looking at him, walking over to kiss her forehead.

"So what kind of news should I prepare for? Is something wrong?" he asks softly.

"No," Emma says, and means it. Somehow, this has managed to become right. It wasn't how her parents planned it, or how she planned it, but somehow, this family has still managed to become right. "But you might want to sit down..."


	67. Chapter 67

_Neal's firsts--walking, talking, attending his first ball. And Snow being happy and excited, but also heartbroken that she never got to do those things with Emma._

Neal's first word is for his mommy.

Charming is sleeping with Neal in his arms as Snow enters the bedroom, and she smiles at the sight of her husband and son equally exhausted from a day of playing. They look so lovely, and it makes her heart ache with how much she loves them.

Gently, she eases into bed and kisses Neal's head, then Charming's forehead.

“Snow,” he murmurs sleepily, and tilts his head to finds her lips and kiss her lazily. She smiles at that, then down at Neal, who has opened his eyes and is looking up at her thoughtfully.

“It's mommy,” Charming whispers to Neal, giving Snow a quick smile. “Remember we talked about mommy today and how much we missed her?”

“Mama,” Neal says, and Snow's heart seems to skip a beat. Charming looks stunned as well, then breaks into a smile that seems to light up his whole face.

“Mama, that's right,” he tells Neal, kissing the baby's forehead as Neal's eyes slide shut again and their son is once again asleep. “She's your mama.”

“She is,” Snow manages to say, pressing her forehead against Charming's and putting her arms around Neal. His first word. She's here for his first word. She can be here for all his firsts, and the joy of it seems to fill it.

(All the more stronger because she knows what it's like not to be there for your baby's firsts – or not be there at all.)

II

Neal's first step is for his daddy and a toy dragon.

Charming is holding the toy dragon and Neal wants it, Snow can tell. Her baby is furrowing his brow in that way that Charming does, and Emma does, and it's impossible not to smile at it.

“Come and get it,” Charming teases. “Your dragon awaits your slaying, my knight.”

Snow can only hold her breath as Neal fights his way to his feet rather than crawl, and takes one unsteady step, and then another – and falls onto the toy dragon with determination.

“Snow,” Charming says, and she can hear the emotion in his voice. “He...”

“He took his first step,” she says tearfully, as Charming lifts Neal (who is clutching the toy dragon with determination) into the air. Neal laughs happily, and Charming laughs with him, and Snow can only laugh with them with the joy of it.

Charming puts Neal down, and their boy starts banging the toy dragon against a toy sheep while Charming makes his way over to her and presses a kiss against her temple.

“He's going to be walking all over the place pretty soon,” he murmurs into her hair, and she can only nod. “Snow...”

“I know,” she says, choking on the words as her husband holds her and their son has just taken his very first steps in his nursery, and everything is as it should be.

(And as it wasn't the first time.)

II

Neal's first ball isn't quite a ball.

It really isn't a proper ball like in the Enchanted Forest. But it is the best they could do for Henry's birthday when he asked about it. Regina has turned the town hall into a ballroom, Granny has set up food services outside, and there are torches and everyone has dressed in the closest they could get to Enchanted Forest clothes.

Even Emma, sparkling in a light blue dress that makes Snow force back tears.

Neal too, has been dressed in a princely outfit, looking every bit as handsome as Charming, and they both offer her snow bells that she braids into her hair. Her son watches everything with wide eyes, excited by the intricate steps and the laughter and music.

He gets to dance too, lifted up in her arms while she swings him around and Charming watches them as if mesmerized by it. Then Belle does the same, and then Ruby and then even Emma, who looks as graceful as a swan as she swings her brother around and tells him something that makes him laugh.

Afterwards, Charming steps up to Emma and offers his hand, and father and daughter dance while Neal falls asleep against Snow's shoulder, tired by all the excitement.

Snow can only watch, feeling her heart swell and yet break at the same time.

They should have had this with Emma too. First word. First step. First ball. Having it with Neal doesn't make up for that, even as it is wonderful and makes her happy beyond belief.  
The music stops, and Charming steps away from Emma with a smile and a bow. Then he wordlessly walks over to her and lifts Neal into his own arms.

“Go dance with your daughter,” he says, his eyes twinkling at her.

She does. Emma looks dubious when she offers a hand, but soon they're twirling around the room, not caring about how untraditional it might be, or how many conventions they're breaking. Mother and daughter dance should be a tradition, Snow decides, and she's pretty sure she would have made it so if they had gotten to raise Emma.

Which mother could resist dancing with a daughter like this, after all?

Emma is laughing when the music stops, color in her cheeks, a smile on her lips and a light in her eyes. She is happy, Snow realizes. In this moment, Emma seems perfectly happy.

“Thanks, mom,” she says. “I think that's a first, dancing with your mother at a ball.”

Snow can only smile sheepishly at that. “It is a first, but this family is very good at firsts.”

“I bet,” Emma says drily. Then she bites her lip. “I was hoping... It's stupid..”

“What?” Snow asks, taking Emma's hand and squeezing it.

“I've never seen you and dad dance,” Emma confesses, looking quite sheepish. “After I attended that ball in the Enchanted Forest when you robbed dad, I just thought... I would have seen a lot of those growing up, wouldn't I?”

“You would,” Snow says, blinking away tears. “Your dad would have thrown you a ball every time he was proud of you, which probably would have been daily.”

Emma laughs, glancing over at Charming. “Probably.”

“Certainly.”

Emma laughs again, then sobers again. “I'm not sure I'm such of a ball person, but... It's nice to think you would have done that for me.”

“Oh, honey,” Snow murmurs, pulling her daughter into a hug. “We love you. We would have done anything for you.”

Emma nods slightly as Snow pulls away, her eyes slightly watery. It's all Snow can do not to cry herself, but she fights it back.

“Why don't you go and hold your brother?” she suggests softly. “And I'll take your father for a dance.”

Emma gives another nod, walking over to Charming and speaking softly to him. He looks slightly confused, but does ease Neal into her arms and then walks over and offers Snow his hand.

His palm is warm against her, and his hand on her hip is as much caressing her as it is leading her as they dance, as it always is when they dance. They move together effortlessly, easily in tune and in step with each other, having done this so many times together.

It's still a first.

Emma is watching them with a faint smile on her lips, her brother in her arms, and her eyes bright with love.

“What's this about?” Charming murmurs to her, and Snow lifts her head from his shoulder to look at him.

“This is the first time Emma sees her parents dance,” she tells him, and his eyes soften.

“Her first,” he says, stealing a glance at Emma, then looks down at her again.

“Yeah,” she says, and he lifts her up and swings her around while she laughs at him and Emma smiles at them, and Neal sleeps on. That's okay. He will get his first later. But this, this is Emma's.

They might have lost a lot of firsts with her, Snow knows – but now she also realizes there are many still to be had.


	68. Chapter 68

_I have a prompt. Set when they were still engaged. When Charming excuses himself to wash up, Snow gets a littlw curious and follows. She's then caught by Red._

It is only natural to want to know everything about the man you're going to marry, Snow tells herself firmly. Yes. Only natural. He's going to be her husband, so of course knowing what he looks like under that leather outfit of his is a natural thing to want to know. Yes, definitely.

She still feels slightly naughty as she trails behind Charming as he makes his way to the lake. He has no idea she is here, having excused himself to wash up, and technically she is sort of spying on him. Technically.

She prefers to think of it as research.

Charming pauses for a moment as if he's sensing her presence, and she stands absolutely still, hardly daring to breathe. Then he seems to shake it off and walks in, finally reaching the lake.

She stays behind the trees, peeking out as Charming first takes a few sips of water. Moments later he stretches, and then he is unlacing his leather doublet. The shirt he is wearing underneath is white and almost see-through in the sharp sun, but she barely has a moment to even register that before he pulls his shirt off too.

Oh, she thinks. He's muscled and toned, she knew he would be from how she has seen him fight. His skin looks smooth, and the sunlight seems to caress him in ways she's itching to. How would it feel to run her palms across his chest, she wonders.

Her cheeks redden as she realizes he's not stopping there. He's pulling his boots off, and then his pants, and her breath catches as he swiftly yanks his underwear off and then dives into the water. She gets a brief glimpse of his manhood and the curve of his buttocks, but it's far too brief a glimpse. She wants to see more, wants to see everything as he stands up and she can see the water cling to his skin and...

“Snow!”

Snow nearly jumps out of her skin, turning around to see Red look at her with a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

“Red,” Snow says, trying to keep her voice light and innocent. “I was just...”

“Like hell you were just. I can't believe you,” Red says, crossing her arms. “Spying!”

“Surveillance,” Snow counters, biting her lip. “I was curious.”

Red shakes her head, and gives her another stern look. “What do you think Charming would say if he saw you? Stop ogling your poor unsuspecting finace and get back to camp.”

Snow can only nod demurely, getting another stern look from Ruby before Ruby marches off. Right. She's been told off by her best friend, but it could have been worse, it could have...

“I know exactly what your poor finace would say if he saw you,” a deep voice says behind her, and she closes her eyes in mortification. Of course.

“Charming, I'm...” she starts, her words getting caught in her throat she she suddenly feels him move up to her and press his body against her back. His still naked body, apparently. Naked and wet.

“You're what?” he asks, pressing a light, light kiss against her shoulder.

“Sorry,” she manages to get out, as his mouth moves up her neck.

“I'm not,” he breathes. “And actually, it's your not so poor and not so unsuspecting fiance would say. I knew you were there, Snow. I heard you.”

Snow licks her lips, her mouth feeling dry. She can feel the water from his body starting to make her dress more than a little wet, but she doesn't care. “You knew the whole time?”

“Mmm,” he murmurs, catching her earlobe between his teeth and nibbling for a moment. She can't help but moan at that, then turns around abruptly and pulls him into a fierce kiss. He moans at that, then tugs at her lower lip until she parts her lips and the kiss deepens. They kiss, kiss and kiss, greedily as if they want everything from each other.

She is panting hard as Charming pulls away slightly, his breath caressing her lips as he speaks.

“Did you get a good look, Snow?”

“No,” she manages to say, stealing another hard kiss. “You got into the water too quickly.”

“Then look,” he says huskily, and steps away.

She does. She lets her gaze caress every inch of him, trace every line and follow every cure as he just stands still. He's beautiful, she thinks, and can't quite look away.

“Charming?”

“Mm,” he says, making a move towards her again, but she holds out a hand. She licks her lips nervously, then decides, hell, fair is fair.

His eyes widen as she undoes the belt on her dress, then begins pulling it off slowly. She can't help but feel nervous, not having done anything like that before, but Charming's gaze is warm on her as she drops the dress to the grass. Her leggings quickly follows, while the simple corset and underwear takes a little longer.

Charming only watches, his eyes dark with desire as he regards her. Only when she's completely done does he step forward, kissing her while his fingers play across her skin.

“You're beautiful,” he murmurs. “Snow, you...I...”

“What?” she asks, drawing her palms across his chest. It feels even better than she imagined.

“I love your curiosity,” he says breathlessly, as her hands wander lower.

“There is something else I am curious about,” she manages to say, and he smiles at her as if he knows exactly what that might be.

She still shows him.


	69. Chapter 69

_From an e-mailed prompt: could you do something with frozen hearts and Snow & Charming now sharing one? I kind of made it into a Charming family thing with Emma, ooops? Hope you forgive me. Slight apperance by Hook as well, though no explicit Captain Swan references._

Emma Swan would do anything to see her parents kissing right now. Even them making out would be a welcome sight, and she wouldn't even care about the noises or the wanderings hands. Or even just a peck. She would love just a peck. Just a small kiss.

That would be enough. Her parents love each other truly, just a quick peck would be enough.

But they can't kiss.

She's put them together in their bed, facing each other. David still has his eyes open, bright blue like ice, determination on every inch of his face as he stepped in front of the icy blast that would otherwise had hit Emma. Snow's expression is more peaceful, almost serene, with eyes closed.

She didn't take a blast. She didn't have to. They are a heart now, her parents, and freezing one half of it apparently causes the other to freeze as well. David probably didn't realize that. He just wanted to save his daughter.

Emma would scream at him for that if it would do any good. As it is, Rumplestiltskin has reassured them that true love's kiss would reverse a frozen heart, which normally wouldn't be a problem. Mary Margaret could kiss him, and Emma would have her father back and happily watch her parents make out for a whole evening for that joy.

But they can't kiss.

And Henry, Henry that she loves truly to pieces, just looked at her hopefully and told her she could break the curse. She could kiss her parents. True love's kiss. She could do it.

He really believes that. So, with a weak smile she told him to wait outside while she tries – and here she is.

True love's kiss. She's done it before on Henry, but she wasn't trying then. She didn't realize his life depended on it. She just loved him. She thought she had already lost him, so there was no point fighting it anymore.

What is she doesn't love them enough? What if it isn't true? She's fought so hard to keep them at an arm's length, to keep them as friends more than parents, to keep them as David and Mary Margaret and not really Snow and Charming. She's only barely started to let them in and to accept them.

What if that means she doesn't truly love them? She only barely knows them, it sometimes feels like, and they know each other so well.

Love wasn't enough with Neal, her Neal. Twice, actually, and her heart aches with it.

She can't lose her parents. She can't. She can't let her baby brother grow up without parents, not like she did.

That's the problem. She's so afraid she can barely think, barely feel, and certainly not feel true love. She has to feel it, she has to wake them, has to...

"Swan," a voice says, and she looks up to see Hook looking down at her sympathetically. "I heard what happened."

"They can't kiss each other," she mutters, wincing at the emotion in her own voice. She's crying too, she realizes, tasting the salt of her own tears. "Henry thinks I can do true love's kiss and wake them."

"And you don't think you can?" he asks gently.

"I'm..." she bites back a sob. "I'm afraid."

"There is no doubt they truly love each other," Hook says, and she can only nod numbly at that. Her parents have certainly broken enough curses and even have the shared heart to prove it.

"You think I'm like them?" she asks, thinking of how obviously and easily her parents love, how unashamed they are of showing it.

"Swan, you're the product of true love. You're their daughter. You love just as fiercely as them, just as truly. You just try to fight it and you try to hide it."

She closes her eyes, taking her father's cold hand in hers. Yeah. She is the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, not just of David and Mary Margaret. Her parents truly love each other with the fairy tale to prove it.

And yet they frequently risk being parted for her sake, even risk their lives for her. They love her truly as well, she has no doubt of that either.

"Dad," she murmurs affectionately, pressing a fierece kiss to his hand. He took this blast for her. The idiot risked his life for hers yet again, loves her so much, and she, she...

The magic of true love's kiss washes over her, and she opens her eyes abruptly to see color return to her father's cheeks and a moment later his eyes fly open.

"Emma," he murmurs, looking confused. "What happened?"

Mary Margaret is stirring as well, and Emma can only watch with teary eyes. Apparently sharing a heart means that thawing one half of it means the other follows as well. They're all right. They're...

"I love you," she manages to say, pulling them both into a hug. She can feel them both stiffen in suprise for a moment, then hug her back just as fiercely.

Her parents. No point fighting it, no point hiding it. She loves them.

Truly.


	70. Chapter 70

_Prompt: Baby Neal's first night with his parents_

Her baby doesn't leave her arms that night.

It is a somewhat irrational need, Snow knows, to keep holding him, to feel the weight of him in her arms. It's still a need, and one Charming seems to understand, because he doesn't suggest putting the baby into a bassinet or into his arms.

Instead he holds her, nestling into the hospital bed with her. Emma and Henry have taken off for the evening with promises to return in the morning, and now it's just her and Charming and their son, blanketed by the low lights and quiet sounds of the hospital.

In a low voice, Charming gives her the details of what happened with Zelena, and she shudders at the thought of how close she came to losing another baby, to losing Emma, to losing him.

“We're here, Snow,” he whispers reassuringly, kissing her temple.

She glances down at their sleeping son. He is here. History nearly repeated itself, but this time she didn't have to see Charming with a baby in his arms walking away from her. This time he was walking to her.

“He wasn't harmed at all,” Charming goes on, and she can only nod. “He's strong, just like his big brother and mother.”

She bites back tears. She didn't feel very strong, alone in her bed while everyone else fought to get the baby back. She felt tired, broken, and old. Though she almost got out of bed to follow her family even knowing she was too weak from birth to help out, but the nurse administrated a sedative to keep her calm.

“Our son,” she says after a moment, glancing down at the sleeping baby. He looks so peaceful and serene, and so very, very innocent.

“Our son,” Charming agrees, and she can hear the emotion in his voice. He's been so busy being strong for her, so focused on getting their son back, that she can only imagine all he's holding back.

“Charming,” she murmurs, turning carefully around in his embrace to look at him. “I love you.”

He closes his eyes at that, and she kisses him softly, caressing his lips with her own while he pulls her slightly closer and their baby is now resting between them.

“I love you both,” he whispers, and she smiles into the kiss. “Snow?”

“Yeah?”

“This was worth my heart,” he says, glancing down. “To see you with a baby in your arms, to know you will be the mother you want to be... That's worth it.”

“To have you here with me and our son is worth mine,” she replies fiercely, and he smiles at her with bright, bright eyes. Gently, he moves one hand to rest against her chest and another to rest on their son's head.

“Our son and our heart,” he says, and she doesn't care that she is crying. These are good tears. Charming is crying slightly too, and they rest their foreheads against each other while listening to the baby's soft, but steady breath.

Their baby doesn't leave her arms that night, and she doesn't leave Charming's.


	71. Chapter 71

_prompt: David and Emma are out solving the latest crisis and Snow spends the day with Neal (he can be a bit older, you decide) playing, learning, snuggling, just having fun! :)_

"I'm sorry, Snow," Charming is rambling, strapping on his sword and then the gun holster. "But we have to deal with these snow trolls before they kill anyone else and…"

"And there's Neal," Snow finishes for him, looking down at the tiny toddler in her arms. There is their son, their very young son, which means that both parents going on adventures suddenly becomes very hard.

"I'll stay home next time," he promises, and she knows he will. He has several times already, and coming home to her husband sleeping exhausted with Neal sleeping on his chest is always the loveliest sight she knows.

"Go, Charming," she tells him sternly, glancing over at where Emma is waiting impatiently in the doorway and not really looking at them. Good. Then she gives Charming a fierce kiss, tip-toeing to reach. He moans softly, putting his hands on her waist to press her as close as he can without squeezing Neal between them.

"I can still hear that," Emma says from the door.

"Sorry, Emma," Snow says speepishly, breaking the kiss to see Charming smile at her with amusement. Then he gives her another quick peck, Neal a soft forehead kiss and he's out the door. Emma gives her an apologetic smile and then she is gone too, and it's just Snow and Neal.

He is awake, and she smiles down at him.

"Your big sister and daddy are going on an adventure," she tells him. "Just like mommy and Emma did three days ago. We like adventures."

Neal makes an excited noise as if he too, would like to voice his like for adventures.

"Shall we see what kind of adventures you and I can have in your nursery?" she suggests, and Neal looks slightly unhappy by that suggestion. "We could read, or play with your toys, or let you crawl all over mommy and the floor."

Neal still doesn't look enthused. He blinks up at her, and a sudden, very, very naughty idea occurs to her.

"Or we could take mommy's bow and trackdaddy and Emma to make sure they stay safe," she suggests. "Have a bandit adventure."

"Mama," Neal says, and just like the first time he said it and all the times after, it fills her eyes with tears.

"Yeah," she agrees. "A bandit adventure with mama."

II

A while later, with Neal in a baby bjorn strapped to her chest and a quiver strapped to her back, Snow finds herself in the forest.

Forests will always be a home to her, the sounds and feels of them so familiar from her time living as a bandit, and she finds herself smiling she walks between the trees. She would sneak out of the castle often enough to spend time in the nearby forests, and Charming would always find her there. Of course.

She's going to teach Neal all she learned from those years, she decides, and feels a happy thrill at the thought of teaching her own child something.

He is too young to learn much from the tracking she is currently doing, but she still narrates in a low voice the various tracks and what animals they belong to. David and Emma's tracks are easy enough to follow, since her darling daughter and husband are utterly terrible at subtle.

Then again, so are snow trolls. Their tracks are extremely easy to spot, and Snow bites her lower lip anxiously.

"Neal?" she murmurs, glancing down at her son. "Be quiet for mommy now. We have to run."

Neal looks seriously at her, as if he understands. So she runs, swiftly and quietly until she can hear the sounds of a very angry snow troll. Those sounds will mask her approach quite well, but she still keeps as quiet as possible while finding a small hill to use as a vantage point.

One snow troll is already down, she can see, while one is still firmly alive and very angry. Snow trolls are much larger and bulkier than normal trolls, and this is no exception.

Charming is keeping the troll's attention on his, of course. She would expect no less from him. Emma meanwhile is trying to strafe around and get a shot at the troll's back. Clever, and a good team strategy, Snow has to give them. But trolls are also team players, and none of them have seen the third troll hiding behind the rocks, waiting to an opportunity to take out either Emma or Charming.

Snow doesn't care for either of those options.

It is extremely hard to actually aim a bow with a toddler strapped to your chest, Snow discovers, but Neal is cooing in excitement at all he sees, so there is that, she supposes. And she finally manages to angle it correctly, and sends the arrow flying.

It buries itself into the hidden troll's neck, and the troll slumps against the rock. It won't be able to attack any of her family now, she notes with satisfaction.

Charming is looking up, as if he could hear something, but luckily the troll roars at him and he's forced to focus back on it. Emma is still circling, and Snow watches with pride as her daughter aims the shot at the back of the neck, and then takes it.

The troll goes down. Charming grins at Emma, and Emma grins at him, and Snow slips away as quietly as she came. They don't need to know she was there. They can be proud of themselves for handling it alone, and she and Neal can have their little adventure as their secret.

That should work out, right?

II

It's an hour later when Snow can hear the door opening and her husband return home. Neal is sitting on her lap in their bed, books scattered across, and hopefully it looks like they've spent all their time reading and snuggling.

"Remember, shh," she tells Neal, putting a finger to her lips, which he clumsily tries to mimic.

"Dada," Neal says, clearly not quite getting the secret part. She still smiles at him as he looks towards the door with excitement, and his face lights up and he stretches his arms out as he sees Charming walk in. "Dada."

Charming's face lights up too, and he sits down on the bed and lifts Neal into his arms. "Daddy is very happy to see you too."

"We missed you," Snow says, watching Charming kiss the top of Neal's head almost reverently, then tilts his head and kisses her equally reverently.

"Missed you too," he murmurs, looking at her fondly. "Snow…"

"Mmm?"

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about a myserious arrow taking down a snow troll, would you?"

She tries to keep her face carefully blank, but knows that Charming can read her like an open book, the utter bastard.

"A mysterious arrow?" she asks, trying to sound innocent. She must be failing, because Charming looks utterly unimpressed.

"Mama," Neal says.

"Exactly," Charming agrees. "Mommy shot down a snow troll with you today, didn't she?"

Snow sighs, then caves. "We had a minor adventure."

"My two bandits," Charming says happily, looking not the least bit angry about it. Almost suspiciously happy about it, in fact, almost as if…

"Charming, three days ago when Emma and I were investigating the deep-frozen library… What exactly did you and Neal get up to?"

Charming looks utterly, perfectly busted for a moment before he can compose himself, while Neal babbles excitedly.

Snow can only shake her head. They are all utterly hopeless at staying out of adventures, this family, and Neal will probably grow up to be just as bad.

She can't wait to see it.


	72. Chapter 72

_prompt: Snow telling Charming about giving him half her heart or Snow and Charming telling Emma_

"How?" Charming asks, as Snow clings to him. They've found a quiet corner for some privacy, and she hasn't stopped touching him since. "How am I alive?"

He can feel a steady heartbeat in his chest, but the curse was cast. He remembers his heart being the crushed, the brief pain of it and the stronger pain of Snow's look as she did. He remembers waking with a gasp, and Snow telling him he was okay, that they were both okay, and kissing her. Then the curse.

Snow smiles at him, a teary smile, and she cradles his head in her hands.

"My heart," she says. "I made Regina take my heart out and give half of it to you."

He stares at her. He has Snow's heart beating in his chest? "Is that... Possible?"

"Regina didn't think it was," she says. "I believed."

"Snow..."

"I believed," she repeats, and he thinks that Snow's faith and hope might be a magic all to itself, just as strong as the magic of true love. "We've always shared one heart."

He remembers telling her that, and the realization that is now literal almost blows him away.

"Snow," he says again, unable to find the words to tell her how much he loves her and how much her love for him strengthens and humbles him both. "I really have half your heart?"

"Yes," she replies, looking at him with so much love he feels almost dizzy. Her can feel his heart – her heart – skip a beat as well, then beat on.

Her heart. Her heart is keeping him alive, keeping him here, keeping him with her. Because of her heart, he will get to see their baby grow up, be there for Emma and Henry, have his family and grow old with Snow.

"Charming," she says tenderly, drawing her thumb across his cheekbone.

"I love you," he says, and she pulls him into a fierce kiss. He can feel the curve of her stomach press against his body, and he lowers his hands to stroke the sides of it while Snow links her hands around his neck.

And in his chest, half her heart beats on steadily, keeping him alive.


	73. Chapter 73

_Prompt: Emma has a nightmare in which she is back in the enchanted forest, only Snow actually dies, so she screams in her dreams and her mother come stay with her and tell her that she isn't going anywhere. Mama Snow moment. Thank you_

_Mom._

She's dying. She's dying, burning to death, and Emma can only watch. Can only watch and despair and know what she's lost, and watch her father not even know what he's now lost. His true love. His wife. The mother of his children.

_Mom._

Some savior Emma is. She can only watch, can't even save her own mother. Can't even...

_Mom._

"Emma," a voice says, and Emma clings to it as if it's an anchor, and follows it up through the darkness of the dream and into the faint light of a bedroom. Mary Margaret is sitting on the bed, holding her hand, and Emma can't help but pull her into a fierce hug.

"You're here," she says, closing her eyes as her mother hugs her back.

"Of course I am," Mary Margaret says softly. "You're staying with us tonight, remember?"

Emma doesn't quite trust herself to answer. This is indeed her old bedroom in what is now her parents' home, one which she does stay at almost every night that Henry stays with Regina. In that way it does almost feel like a home still.

Mary Margaret pulls back slightly, watching her face intently. "You were crying out in your sleep, Emma."

"Oh," Emma says. "I had a bad dream."

"You want to tell me about it?" Mary Margaret asks gently, biting her lip. She must be quite worried, Emma realizes, but is trying very hard not to push.

Emma closes her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. Part of her wants to brush it all off and not talk about it at all, and a part of her really, really wants the comfort and reassurance.

_Mom._

"You were being burned to death," Emma says abruptly, keeping her eyes closed. "I couldn't do anything even if it was my fault for changing the timeline. And dad was watching and didn't even know what he was losing, but I did and..."

She chokes, and feels Mary Margaret's arms around her again. Her mother just hugs her for several minutes, the pulls back and kisses her forehead.

"I'm right here, Emma. You didn't lose me."

"I did," Emma murmurs, finally opening her eyes. "For a few hours, I lost you. I know it's just a nightmare and I'm silly but..."

Mary Margaret's eyes are brimming with tears. "I have had so many nightmares about the night we put you in the wardrobe. We found each other again, but... for 28 years I lost you."

Emma swallows, and swallows, but the lump in her throat won't go away.

"I've had so many nightmares about all the times I've lost or almost lost your father," Mary Margaret goes on, her words soft but the pain in them still palatable. "And last night, I dreamt I was losing your baby brother again. So no, I don't think you're silly."

Emma is crying, and Mary Margaret swipes away a few tears gently with her thumb.

"But they are just nightmares," Mary Margaret goes on, smiling bravely, and Emma thinks her mother has just as much courage as her father. It just shows in different ways. "We wake up from them."

Emma exhales, feeling the words sooth and and calm her. "You're pretty good at this nightmare comforting thing, you know."

Mary Margaret chuckles, but she does look quite touched as well. "I've had practice."

Emma raises an eyebrow. Neal seems far too young for nightmares, but that leaves... "David?"

Mary Margaret nods, and Emma marvels at the fact that her father, seemingly so composed and together and always hopeful, that he would suffer nightmares too.

"He's quite stubborn," her mother says lightly. "He often tries to keep them from me."

As weird as it is, Emma feels a strange sense of pride at that. Her stubbornness comes from her father.

"He always fails, so don't get any ideas," Mary Margaret continues sternly, making Emma chuckle.

"Duly noted, mom," Emma replies dryly, and Mary Margaret softens at the 'mom', as Emma knew she would. It's her not so secret but extremely efficient weapon. "Mom?"

"Yes, honey?"

For a moment, Emma is tempted to pretend everything is fine and she can go back to sleep now without any fear. But that wouldn't quite be true.

"I don't think I can go back to sleep yet. Could you... Could you stay up with me?"

"Oh, Emma," Mary Margaret says, taking her hand. "Of course I will. I'll stay up with you whenever you want me to. I'll just check on your brother, and then we can make some hot chocolate with cinnamon and you can tell me more about your first ball."

Emma raises an eyebrow. "The one you robbed my father at?"

Her mother doesn't bat an eyelid. "Merely an act of minor thievery."

"Not sure dad's chin would agree with that."

Mary Margaret blushes, but keeps head held high. "I've kissed that better."

"Ew," Emma says good-naturedly, but smiles softly. "All right, but only if you tell me about a ball where you didn't rob anyone."

"Deal," Mary Margaret agrees, smiling, and Emma thinks that seeing her mother like this enough times might just chase her nightmare away eventually.

She can hope so, at least.

II

In the morning, David pads sleepily into the kitchen and finds his wife and daughter peacefully asleep on the new comfortable couch, with Emma's head in Snow's lap. No nightmares there, he can tell from their faces, and lets them sleep on.


	74. Chapter 74

_prompt: Emma takes Neal out for the day so Snow and Charming can stay home and relax alone. thank you :)_

II

"Emma..."

"No."

"But..."

"No."

"You don't have to..."

"No," Emma says again firmly, giving her mother a stern look.

"Emma," her father tries, and she turns her gaze on him.

"No," she repeats. "I am taking my brother for the day. You two are going to have the day to yourself – and not tell me any details about it afterwards, thank you – and I will look after Neal. That is non-negotiable. I've brought food from Granny's, books from Belle and bubble baths from Ruby. You two are going to have a relaxing day right here, no excuses."

Her parents still look incredibly guilty, so Emma goes for the ace in her sleeve and looks down fondly at her brother nestled in her arms. "You wouldn't deny your daughter a chance to bond with her brother, would you?"

Mary Margaret looks touched. "No, of course not!"

"Then it's settled," Emma says, pressing her advantage. Her parents nod reluctantly. "And to make sure you don't try to cheat and 'accidentally' end up in the same place as us, I won't be telling you where we're going or what we'll be doing."

"Emma!" her father protests. "We wouldn't..."

"Yes, you would," Emma replies, and both of them manage to look plenty guilty. "I know you two."

They exchange a glance, and then smile at each other with a strange sort of joy. Huh. Not quite the reaction Emma was expecting.

"You do know us," Mary Margaret says softly. "Promise to call us if anything happens."

"I promise," Emma says, and means it. She intends for her parents to have a relaxing day, as exhausted as they've looked recently, but she would never try to keep anything serious from them. She knows how she would feel if it was Henry, after all.

Mary Margaret nods, then steps forward and gives Neal a light kiss on the forehead. David does the same, and Emma's heart ache with a sort of bittersweetness she's come to get used to when seeing her parents raising her brother these last couple of months.

"Thank you," David directs at Emma, and then she is getting the parental kisses to her forehead as well.

"Not a problem," she mutters, clearing her throat. "I'll see you tonight, okay?"

They nod, and the last Emma sees of them is Mary Margaret stepping into David's embrace, murmuring something that makes him smile almost sadly.

II

"Operation Dragon is a go!" Henry says excited as Emma walks into their apartment with baby Neal and a bag of baby supplies and toys.

"Operation Dragon?" she asks. "Really, kid?"

"You said it was easier to face a dragon than get Gramps and Grams to take the day off," he reminds her. "I thought it was the perfect name."

Ah. Henry logic, she figures, and gives him a smile. "Well, I have the dwarfs taking turns watching the apartment, so we'll knows if your Gramps or Grams try sneaking out."

"Good planning," Henry says, nodding his approval.

"I learned from the best Operation planner in the world," she says, and her son looks as if she's given him a gift. Then he peers into her arms.

"Hey kid," he tells his uncle. "How do you feel about rattles?"

II

Neal loves rattles, as it turns out. He also loves soft rubber blocks that he can chew on, his own fingers, crawling and Henry reading Snow and Charming's story from his book. What he seems to love most of all though, is crawling up on top of Emma's chest when she's on the floor with him and lie there, sucking on his fingers and making strange, soft noises.

Emma thinks she might be in love. Sure, she's been fond of her brother from the start, but this, this is love. It is almost like the fake memories she has of raising Henry, but she can't allow herself to quite indulge in those anymore.

This she can, and she lies on her back and watches the floor while Neal falls asleep on her chest and Henry lies beside her, still reading.

After a while, Henry falls quiet, but not asleep. He's watching her, she realizes.

"I'm glad you stayed in Storybrooke, mom," he finally says, leaning his head on her shoulder.

"So am I, kid," she tells him sincerely.

"Do you think we could paint dragons on the ceiling?" he asks, and she tilts her head to look at him. "Would be nice to have something to look if we're going to lie here every time Neal comes to visit."

She regards the ceiling. He does have a point, and there is space enough for plenty of painted dragons and whatever else they might like.

"Would you like to watch Neal again then?" she asks, and he nods. "So would I."

II

It is late when Emma returns with a sleeping Neal in her arms, and given the speed at which the door is opened when she knocks, her parents have been waiting for her.

"Hey Emma," Mary Margaret says, and Emma eases Neal into her mother's arms. "Hey Neal."

David smiles at her. "Thank you for taking him, Emma."

"My pleasure," she says, and means it. "I hope you had a good day."

"Not giving any details, as per your request," he replies, and she smiles at that.

"Good," she says. Of course, she has been reliably informed that her parents tried to sneak out once, but that Ruby ran interference, so she actually know more than they might think. "Um. Mom, dad?"

Mary Margaret looks up from cooing at Neal. "What is it, honey?"

"I was wondering if I could watch Neal again soon. Not to give you guys a break, even if you should have that too, I just..." she pauses her rambling, trying to find the words. "I would really like to babysit him sometimes. Henry likes it too."

David and Mary Margaret look at each other, having one of their silent communications. Then they're embracing her, a touch carefully to make sure Neal isn't squeezed between them.

"Of course, honey," her mother says. "He's your brother."

And this is her family, Emma thinks, and holds on.

II

They do paint the ceiling with dragons, a new one every time Neal comes to visit. And one day when her parents come along with Neal to spend the day as well, her dad paints a bandit princess and her mother a shepherd knight, and Henry a sheriff princess dragonslayer and Emma a reading knight with his own horse and they all lie together on the floor afterwards, just watching.

Neal crawls across them all, babbling happily, and David takes Mary Margaret's hand and Mary Margaret takes Emma's while Henry rests his head on Emma's shoulder.

Neal will paint something of his own when he gets older, Emma figures. Or maybe he will find someone he will want to paint for him, and he will paint for someone else. And maybe her parents will have more kids still, and there will be lots more painting to be done. Maybe she might even have another kid, as impossible as the thought seemed years ago.

There will be room either way, Emma figures. On her ceiling and in her family, and in her heart. She has Henry, she has her mother and her father, she has her brother, and they've made room for themselves, so now she knows. She has room.


	75. Chapter 75

_Prompt: Snowing + an Enchanted Forest game of strip poker (aka strip archery)_

II

Her husband is not a bad shot with the bow, Snow knows very well, but she also knows that of the two of them, she is damn well the better archer. (She’ll begrudgingly grant him that he is the better swordsman, though it took a number of duels lost to him with her ending up pinned underneath him while he cheekily asked for her surrender to get there.) He should damn well know she is the better archer as well, but it appears that he is not.

Which is why him challenging her to a contest makes no sense. Okay, she was teasing him about failing to toss his sheathed sword next to the rest of his pack and being a poor shot, but he must know challenging her is a very bad idea. Except he doesn’t look like he knows that. He even looks like he is sure of winning, all cheeky grins at her. It’s not fake confidence, she knows him too well and would spot it a mile away. This is simply confidence, a man sure he will be getting what he wants.

“Charming,” she says suspiciously. He just smiles at her and holds out her bow. The fact that he brought both their bows to what was meant to be a picnic in the forest wasn’t all that odd, given their tendency to stumble into adventures, but she’s now beginning to wonder if he has been planning this all along. “I will win, you know.”

“If you’re that sure about it, how about we make this more interesting?” he asks casually, eyeing her loose summer outfit speculatively. “One item of clothing off for each arrow not hitting the target.”

She stares at him. Is he trying to get her naked? Is that what this is about? He’s about to be sorely disappointed if so.

“You’re on,” she says definitely, and he gives her another cheeky smile before picking up his own bow.

The target, they decide, is a pine tree almost hidden by the leaves of surrounding trees. It’s a tricky shot, but not an impossible one, and they both nail on the first, the second, the third… And then Charming is slightly off, and she gives him a pointed told-you-so-look.

He removes his leather doublet without seeming worried, and they shoot on, both of them hitting the target until they’re out of arrows and have to collect the ones they’ve shot. Charming still doesn’t seem concerned, and as they line up again, he winks at her – and then misses by an inch.

She tilts her head and gives him another look, but he merely shrugs, pulls his shirt right off, and then fires the next arrow straight at the target.

Snow swallows. She’s seen him shoot arrows before, of course, but not like this. Not with the sun caressing the skin of his chest and his muscles tensing and then relaxing as he fires. That’s… That’s quite the turn on, she realizes, and bites her lower lip.

Her next shot misses, and he gives her another cheeky grin as if he knows why. Right. No more letting herself be distracted, she decides, and discards her riding jacket.

For a while, that seems to work perfectly. Charming misses a couple of more shots, thus losing his boots, and she is starting to taste the triumph. He’s left with only his leather pants and his underwear, and she can win this, she can…

The leather pants do look good on him, she has to admit. Of course, he does look better without, but they do cling to the curve of his buttocks and…

“Snow,” Charming says brightly. “It’s your shot.”

She blinks, realizing he’s already hit the target while she’s been eyeing his behind. She can feel a slight heat rising in her cheeks, and trying to aim suddenly feels very hard.

Her shot goes wide. Charming grins again, and she decides that two, two can play that game, and pulls her dress off rather than one of her boots.

Charming swallows, and then swallows again. He likes the corset she is wearing very much, she knows, having praised it many times for being easy to remove while looking great on her.

“Your shot,” she says, and gives him a cheeky smile. He blinks, then tries to focus on his bow. She can already tell his mind isn’t on the shot, and sure enough, it’s too far to the right.

He puts the bow down, then sits down and pulls his pants way too slowly off, as if he’s teasing her. She tries to hide her impatience, but he gives her a look through lowered eyelids that tells her he’s not fooled at all. (He knows her too well. Of course.)

When he stands up again he’s only in his underwear, and fairly tight underwear at that, especially judging by the bulge. She swallows, feeling something almost like a jolt between her legs.

“Your shot,” he reminds her.

She tears her gaze away, her heart bounding slightly as she pulls her bow up and aims. Still, she does manage to hit, and she gives him a challenging look.

He’s not watching the target, she realizes. He’s watching her chest rise and fall, his gaze like a caress.

She swallows, her throat dry. “Your shot.”

He doesn’t even look, or aim. He just fires an arrow off in the vague direction of the target, then throws the bow aside. A moment later his strong arms have caught her, pressing her against his chest while her bow falls to the ground, and he’s kissing her.

She sighs happily at the sensation of his lips against hers, nibbling, caressing and pressing until her lips feel heavy and her breath is ragged. She is dimly aware that he’s lowering them both on top his cap where they were planning to eat, but they’re both hungry for each other rather than food now.

“Snow,” he murmurs, his voice thick.

“You missed the shot,” she reminds him, lowering her hands to his underwear. “I believe this is meant to be off.”

“I thought I’d let you do the honor,” he says, letting out a soft hiss as she draws a hand across the now quite hard bulge in his pants. Then he is flipping her around, leaving her on top and him underneath her. “Claim your prize.”

She does, of course; he is hers, after all.

II

The sun has managed to travel quite a distance across the sky when Snow stirs slightly in Charming’s embrace, peeking up at him through half-closed eyelids. He took, looks happily sleepy from their quick nap after their rather… Vigorous activities.

“Did you really think you had a shot at winning earlier?” she asks him, and he chuckles and kisses her shoulder.

“No,” he says. “I know you are the better archer.”

“So what was with the strip archery?” she asks, and he grins.

“It was a way to lose and still get what I wanted,” he says calmly, brushing the lightest of kisses against the tip of her nose. “You in my arms.”

“How could you be so sure you would get that?” she asks teasingly, putting a hand against his chest. “I might have been able to resist you naked.”

“No,” he says, and she would given him a stern look for his arrogance if he didn’t kiss her so lovingly she moans into it.

“I know you, Snow,” he says against her lips. “I know you like you know me. I love you like you love me. I want you like you want me. I wouldn’t be able to resist you naked.”

“Mmm,” she hums into the kiss, pressing herself against him. “Care to prove that?”

He does, of course; she is his, after all.


	76. Chapter 76

_prompt : Using the words of Charming "Now was stolen by two women" in There's No Place Like Home. David remembers that in Storybrooke._

II

His daughter is dancing with his wife, and Charming can only watch, feeling slightly breathless. Snow is trying to teach Emma a dance from their land, and Emma is teaching Snow some sort of popular dance from her teenage years, and they seem happy to merge the two together and make a whole new dance as well.

It's breathtaking and endearing.

It's also late, the moonlight streaming through the window testifies as it illuminates both Emma and Snow make them seem almost ethereal. They should all probably be in bed, Charming reflects, as his son is. The thought of that still fills him with quiet joy. His son, sleeping happily and safely in his crib, having been read to and then sung to, and kissed on the forehead by a loving mother, a loving father and even a loving big sister.

But Snow and Emma seemed disinclined to go to bed, and he isn't about to sleep away a chance to spend time with his family, so here he is. He supposes the bottle of wine Emma and Snow seem to have managed to drink before he got home might have something to do with their mood, but they both also seem relaxed and happy in general. Maybe it's the lack of any crisis for a whole week. It certainly helps.

There is also the growing closeness between Emma and him and Snow, a closeness that seems to have started when Emma decided to stay in Storybrooke after her trip to the past. It's not just that she's spending time with them, as now. She shares much more, even from her past, and she uses 'mom' and 'dad' with growing confidence.

He's always loved his daughter, even from the moment she was a small bump on Snow's stomach that he would caress lovingly. But now, now he knows her too and she's...

Just as amazing as her mother, he thinks, and watches them fondly.

“You're both naturals,” he tells them as they pause, taking a breath.

Emma rolls her eyes at him, but looks secretly pleased. Snow seems pleased as well, smiling at him and holding out a hand. Wordlessly, he gets out of the couch and accepts it, and dips her to steal a kiss.

Emma just laughs at that, so she must be in a really good mood. He grins at her, then twirls her around. She laughs at that, and even without the castle, without the exquisite ball gown, and the ball in her honor, this is everything he wants for her.

Happiness.

Snow twirls Emma around as well, and Emma laughs at that too, and he smiles at the sight of them. They're both so amazing they're beyond words, he decides. The two women in his life.

_That’s two women who robbed me._

He chuckles at the sudden memory. He didn't know it was his daughter and his future wife at the time, but he was right anyway. They both robbed him, stole his heart like the bandits they are.

“Something funny, Charming?” Snow asks softly, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed.

“Just looking at the two women who stole my heart,” he says, and means it.


	77. Chapter 77

_something like Charming and Snow cozy in your bed with Charming teasing her about her never see his " Charming Face" again._

II

He's always loved waking like this, Charming thinks sleepily, feeling the warmth of another body across his as he slowly, slowly begins to wake up. He becomes increasingly aware of soft kisses on his face as he does, and wandering hands across his chest.

Snow, he thinks, sighing happily.

His eyelids feel heavy from sleep, but he opens them enough to peek down at Snow as she kisses a path across his chin. She has nestled herself on top of him, a position he finds rather gratifying. Her hair is slightly unruly from sleep, he notes, smiling at it.

"Good morning," he murmurs, and she presses a lingering kiss to his cheek before pulling back slightly to smile at him.

"Good morning," she says. She looks happy, the most beautiful sight he knows, and he smiles back at her.

"You're awake early," he observes, knowing it's usually he who wakes first. Not that he mind. Kissing her awake is something he would gladly spend every morning doing.

"Mmm," she hums, kissing the side of his nose. "Neal woke slightly early this morning. I fed him and he went back to sleep."

"So we have the morning to ourselves," he surmises, and she hums again, then kisses him. It's soft, lips brushing and caressing almost tenderly, almost like a continuation of the gentle waking.

He moves his hands to caress her back leisurely, but also manages to sneakily pull her nightgown off her shoulder and down to her arms while at it. That allows him more skin to caress, and the promise of even more when he can pull the nightgown down even further.

She smiles into the kiss as if she knows what he is doing. She of course has no such obstacle, given that he went to bed in his underwear only. Her fingers make slow, teasing patterns across his chest, making him close his eyes in pleasure. She lifts her lips to press soft kisses against his eyelids, then pauses. He opens his eyes to see her look at him with an expression so loving it still steals his breath.

"Charming," she says, her name for him a caress in itself. It didn't start that way, of course. It was to mock him at first, and he grins as he remembers. "What?"

As always, she can read him. "I was just thinking... For a woman who was so happy never having to see my 'charming face' again, you sure spend a lot of time kissing it."

His tease makes her look indignant for a moment, then her eyes spark. "Says the man who thought nets were the only way to catch a bandit."

"Worked on you," he challenges.

"That's not how you caught me," she says sternly, kissing him fiercely and making him moan softly.

"How then?" he murmurs, as she draws her thumb across his lower lip while biting down on her own.

"Love," she says, no trace of teasing. It is true, after all. He may have caught a bandit in a net. But he knows he could never catch and hold Snow White if she didn't love him, and would never want to.

"I love you," he says softly, kissing her thumb. She looks at him, then kisses the tip of his nose teasingly.

"It seems I have you caught too, then."

"Mmm," he says distractedly, moving his lips lower and feeling her pulse against them. "It seems so. Me and my charming face is all yours."

She laughs, and then she is eagerly kissing him, hands linking and bodies pressed together; wonderfully, wonderfully caught in each other.


	78. Chapter 78

_If it were possible a what if - what if baby Neal had been one of twins? (And the twin was a girl)_

II

In all the chaos as Charming rushes out to get their baby boy back from Zelena, Snow can only feel despair and pain, so much pain. Growing pain, and then suddenly Whale is telling her to push again and a nurse is clutching her hand, and Snow doesn't understand at all.

"The next one is coming, Mary Margaret," Whale tells her, and she tries to make sense of his words. The next one?

The next one.

And so when Charming against all odds returns with their baby boy, she is holding their baby girl. Twins, she tells him as he stares in wonder, as much wonder as she is staring at him with. Then her baby boy is returned to her arms and Charming cradles their baby girl and apologizes for not being there for the birth.

He'll be there for everything else, Snow knows. Like she will get to be.

II

After Emma and Henry and the dwarfs and Ruby and even Regina have all visited and cooed over the babies, Charming crawls into the hospital bed with Snow and finds a way to hold both her and his son.

Snow is holding her daughter again, and Whale has thankfully not even suggested that the babies should leave their arms. Two bassinets have been wheeled discreetly in, though, if needed.

"Twins," Charming says again, marveling at it. He touches the forehead of his baby girl, then his baby boy.

Snow can feel tears prickle her eyes at that, and soon she is crying, but they are happy tears now. None of the exhaustion or previous pain seem to matter anymore. They have a baby boy and a baby girl, alive and well and in their arms for longer than a few minutes.

Charming smiles softly at her, then presses his forehead against hers and occasionally kisses a tear from her cheek. Apart from that he lets her cry, and looks close to it himself.

The babies are sleeping peacefully, and she can already see slight differences in their faces. They aren't identical twins, of course, given that they're different gender, but she finds herself wondering just how alike they will grow up to be.

Maybe they'll be dark-haired co-adventurers, playing hide and seek and always finding each other. Maybe they'll be fair-haired and share each other's toys so often they forget who owns what. Maybe one will be dark and one light, and they will enjoy very different things and only agree on how great big sister Emma is.

And maybe she'll be entirely wrong in all her predictions. She can't wait to find out.

"I guess this time we were both right," Charming murmurs softly. "Me insisting it was a boy, you that it was a girl."

"Mmm," she agrees. A boy and a girl to raise. At the same time. "Charming?"

"Mmm?"

"Are you ready for this?"

"No," he says honestly, and she laughs softly. "I don't think anyone can be ready for... For this."

She can only nod. She knows what he means. Even with her desire for kids, her desire to have a family, the reality of a new and tiny life in her arms is... Overwhelming. And even if she has done that part before, with Emma, she hasn't done anything that comes after it. Now she'll get to do with two at the same time.

"But I want this," Charming goes on, a fierceness in his voice that makes her toes curl. "I want to do this with you, Snow. I can't wait to raise our baby boy and baby girl with you. We'll do it together, like we do everything."

She can only smile at him, feeling tears of joy well up again. Very softly, Charming catches her lips with his and kisses her with as much love as she feels for him too.

They lie in silence for a while, watching their babies. Then Charming helps her sit up and they switch again, him holding their baby girl and she their baby boy, and lie back down.

"We only made one crib," Charming says after a while. "I'll fix it tomorrow."

"Today, you mean," she says softly, and he glances at his watch. It's past midnight, she's already noticed.

"Oh," he says. "It's a new day."

"The first new day for our babies," she says softly. They have so many days ahead of them, but this one still feels special. Their first new day in this world, in this family.

"Happy new day, mommy," he says, looking at as if he knows exactly how she feels. He probably does, actually, and she swallows a lump in her throat.

"Happy new day, daddy," she replies, and kisses him as their babies sleep on in their arms.

The first new day of many, many to come.


	79. Chapter 79

(In honor of Tumblr's Snowing Appreciation Week having favorite kiss for today, today's ficlet is about kissing.)

She used to wonder about kissing him, Snow remembers, drawing a finger across Charming's lips as he sleeps.

Even from early on, she wondered. She thought about kissing him even when she thought he was just an arrogant royal who entrapped her for the sake of baubles, because even then she felt a spark of attraction and wondered how his full lips would feel against hers if she kissed him angrily.

Good, she was sure.

He let her out of the net and ended up catching her in another way - by her heart. She fell in love with him, hopelessly and truly, as he did with her. She thought about kissing him then as well, about falling into his arms and telling him how she felt through kisses, and wondered how it would feel to kiss someone you truly loved.

Wonderful, she was sure.

It took a long time to find out. The first time he kissed her she didn't even remember loving him, and the first time she kissed him she got her memories back but lost him minutes later. No time to get familiar with kissing him, only time to wonder at how a simple kiss could change so much.

Magic, she was sure.

Kisses could be magical, she learned – literally so. She took a sleeping curse to save him and he kissed her awake with true love's kiss. Magic. He proposed to her then, and she kissed her fiance for the first time and wondered how it would feel to kiss a husband.

The same, she was sure.

She was wrong, she knows now. Their stolen or flat-out claimed kisses as engaged were all wonderful, all thrilling, all loving. That hasn't changed. But they know each other now, bodily as well as in mind. They know each other's sensitive spots, know how to kiss to draw moans from each other and how it feels to kiss for a whole night. So, she finds after marrying him that she kisses him slightly more certainly and a touch more possessively. He is her husband, her true love, her Charming, and she tells him that that in every kiss.

She doesn't have to wonder about kissing him anymore, yet she sometimes does. She wonders how it will feel to kiss him when he is a father as well as a husband, how stealing kisses in front of their children will be, how luring him to bed with kisses will be when they both have gray in their hair, how his lips will curve against hers when their skin is wrinkled and they have become old together. She wonders.

She will find out, she is sure. Until then, she leans down and kisses him awake, and feels him smile it her kiss.


	80. Chapter 80

_pre- curse: Charming finds a childhood friend and Snow is jealous._

Charming has been talking to that woman for what feels like hours but is only minutes, and Snow can only listen, feeling slightly frustrated – and if she's quite honest, slightly jealous too.

Oh, she has no doubt Charming loves her. She knows that beyond a shadow of a doubt, and can feel it in his gaze every time he looks at her too. He woke her from the sleeping curse with true love's kiss, and has married her so happily he seems to glow with it. No, she doesn't doubt he loves her. She fears no competition.

But this woman knows him from his childhood. They're childhood friends, now chatting amicably about a local village, about farming, about other friends. About a part of Charming's life Snow knows almost nothing about.

That makes her jealousy, petty and silly as it is.

Charming seems to be picking up on her mood, because he excuses them both from his friend and leads Snow into a more secluded part of the castle courtyard before taking one of her hands in his.

"I'm sorry," he says gently. "Lillian and I haven't seen each other for a long time. She married a farmer and moved away several years ago."

She nods, trying a smile. "You were childhood friends. Of course you should catch up."

"Snow," he says softly.

"I'm jealous," she blurts out, and his forehead crinkles slightly with confusion. "I know she isn't some noblewoman flirting with you..."

"No noblewomen flirt with me after you threatened to make the last one look like a porcupine with your arrows, as I recall," Charming says dryly.

"That woman had the nerve to feel you up and comment on the shape of your ass in front of me!" Snow says hotly.

He smiles cheekily. "You commented quite favorably on it yourself later that evening."

Her cheeks feel warm as she remembers. Oh yes. After telling off that noblewoman, Charming had pulled her into a secluded garden that they never quite managed to get out until it was almost morning.

"I remember," she manages to say, and his gaze seems to make her skin tingle as he looks at her and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Lillian isn't like that," he says softly. "She wasn't flirting with me. We were just catching up."

"I know," Snow says, closing his eyes briefly as he caresses her cheek with his fingers. "I was trying to make that point when you interrupted."

"Sorry," he says, giving her a smile.

She nods. "I know she isn't some noblewoman flirting with you. But she is a part of your life that I am not a part of. I'm jealous of that."

He looks at her thoughtfully, moving his fingers to caress her ear. "You met my mother."

"Yes," she says, thinking of the wonderful women that she only briefly knew, and who made such a heartbreaking sacrifice for her child. "I loved your mother, Charming, even if I only got to know her for a short time."

He smiles sadly at that, and she wordlessly pulls him into a hug. They stay embraced for a while, holding each other in the bright sunlight that suddenly seems too cold.

He rests his hands at her waist as she pulls back slightly, and she puts her hands against his chest.

"I've told you of my life," she murmurs. She has. Even the parts that hurt, like Daniel. She has kept nothing from Charming, nothing at all, and he still loves her just as much, maybe even more. "I know about your brother and what King George put you through. But I know almost nothing of your life before that."

"I didn't mean to keep anything from you," he says softly. "My heart is yours, Snow. I merely thought... It wasn't that important. It was just the simple life of a shepherd."

"It was your life," she says hotly. "That makes it the most important thing in the world to me."

He looks at her, his eyes warm. "Would you like to visit the farm? It still stands. I can show you where I grew up, where I tended sheep, where I climbed my first tree and where I went to trade meat and wool."

"Yes," she says happily, lifting her hands to his cheeks. "I'd love that, Charming."

He kisses her, quite gently, probably well aware they are in view of several people in the castle courtyard despite being in the more secluded part. Not that that particular fact has stopped him on several previous occasions she can think of.

"I'll make the arrangements," he says softly. "We can stay at the local tavern. It isn't up to royal standards, but..."

"I was a bandit, Charming," she reminds him, and he smiles fondly at the memory of that. "The tavern will do fine."

He lifts her hand and presses a few kisses against her knuckles.

"Charming?"

"Yes?"

"This tavern... Did you ever... Was there any woman you... Met there?"

He chuckles, pulling her closer and pressing a kiss against her temple. "Would you be jealous if there was?"

"Yes," she admits. It is silly and irrational and possessive of her, but she knows she would be. Just slightly. "But I wouldn't threaten her with arrows unless she flirted with you now."

"There was none," he says, kissing her ear. "When I was still a shepherd, I was determined to marry for love. I dreamt of bringing my bride to that tavern for our wedding night. I even tried saving up for it, but we didn't have much money."

She looks at him, imagining him and his mother struggling to survive. Years ago, she knows she would have trouble imagining what that might be like at all, raised as the royal princess Snow White. But with all that happened after her father was killed... She can imagine. She can, and it hurts.

"I know it doesn't sound like much, it was the best I could imagine giving my bride," he goes on, and she puts a finger on his lips, silencing him.

"No. The best you could give your bride is _you_ ," she says fiercely, and he looks at her lovingly, and with increasing joy as her words seem to sink in.

"You have me," he swears. "You'll always have me."

She pulls him into a fierce kiss, not caring about who is watching. They should all be used to the sight anyway. Charming doesn't seem to care either, making a throaty noise and lifting her up while they kiss, kiss, kiss.

Let them see, Snow figures. The prince and the princess, the bandit and the shepherd, Snow and Charming, they married for love. They have each other. He is hers, and even if she wasn't a part of his previous life, just like he wasn't a part of hers, they have a life to make together now.

II

She is slightly wrong about the best Charming could give his bride, as it turns out. A few weeks after they return from their stay in the tavern by his farm, Snow discovers she's pregnant.

They're going to have a child to make a life with too.


	81. Chapter 81

_you cold write to me a very sweet thing like the video "Daddy comes home" to Charming and Neal. A typical day of work for David and come home meet your baby happy to see him._

(I made Neal slightly older than a baby and I am not really familiar with that video, but I hope this is to your liking anyway.)

Charming has never minded work. He grew up as a shepherd, after all, and a poor one at that. He had to work hard just to survive. Being a royal might not have been hard physical work, but it was often hard work in other ways, struggling with decisions and always having so many concerns to take into account.

And here in Storybrooke, he's certainly never been shy of work, having a crisis to deal with seemingly every day or at least every week. He's had to work so hard to keep his family safe and together, knowing full well it's all worth it.

So he's used to working hard and doesn't mind it, but coming home after work? That he loves more than he can put to words. He loves coming home with Snow, relaxing into an embrace when they close the door behind them, kissing the world outside away. He loves coming home to her too, knowing it isn't truly coming home unless she is there with him. (Home is her and their family together, after all.)

And now, now he thinks coming home might be his favorite thing in the whole world. He's not just coming home to Snow or with Snow anymore, or with Emma whenever she visits. Now he comes home... To this, to Snow sitting on the floor and playing with their son, joy radiating from her.

"Dada!" Neal says, stretching out his arms with a happy, fairly toothless smile. Charming smiles at his son from the open door, wasting no time in closing it and walking over to pick Neal up. "Dada."

"Yes, daddy is home," he says affectionately. He stands up, as Snow does, leaning forward to kiss her softly. "Sorry I'm late, Emma needed a hand."

"A very good reason for being late," she says, smiling. She seems to enjoy his growing closeness with their daughter as much as he is. Just as he is enjoying how much Emma seems to be letting Snow in now.

"Dada," Neal says again, poking him on the nose. Charming smiles at him, carrying them both to the couch and sitting down. Snow follows, nestling herself against his side.

"Did you have exciting adventures today?" he asks his son softly, as all of Neal's fingers curl around one of his. His son seems to find that quite exciting, making several noises that aren't quite words. They're getting there, though. He still remembers the first time they heard Neal speak, and the almost pain, bittersweet joy of it. They were there for it. They missed Emma's.

"He had the very exciting adventure of trying to hide from mommy," Snow says dryly. He chuckles at that.

"Mommy always finds you," he tells Neal, who looks up at him with bright eyes. "She always finds daddy too."

"Mama," Neal says, as Snow makes a face at him that makes him laugh out with joy. He is joy, and Charming lets himself be filled with it as Snow rests her head on his shoulder and they both watch Neal entertain himself with daddy's leather jacket.

He's home. He's with his wife and their growing son, and Emma will be by later for dinner with Henry, as she often is. It doesn't matter how much he has to work, or how hard he has to work – because it will always be worth a home like this.


	82. Chapter 82

_Prompt - In the Enchated Forest Snow and Charming didn't take about biirth control. In Storybrooke David and Mary Margaret have a conversation involving condoms and other things._

It takes exactly ten seconds after Emma and Henry have left until Snow finds herself pinned against the door by Charming's body and he's kissing her like a man starved. Not that she is any better, moaning encouragement and parting her lips against his. They are starved. They've only just been reunited, having spent such a long time separated by curses and different realms and Mary Margaret and David Nolan's fumbled attempts at making something of an overwhelming pull to each other.

"Charming," she gasps, as he grins into her. She will school herself to call him David for Emma's sake, for the sake of trying to live a Storybrooke life, but right now he feels so much like her Charming she can't quite. "Wait."

He pauses, his breath slightly strained and his hand at her side, about to lift her shirt up. "What?"

"Birth control," she murmurs, and he blinks at her. "We should... Take precautions."

He blinks, then touches her cheek gently. "You're worried about a pregnancy?"

She nods. "Mary Margaret wasn't on the pill, and we only just got reunited with Emma. I don't want her to... I don't want to..."

She swallows. She does actually want another pregnancy, but she doesn't quite dare voice that aloud. It feels too raw, too selfish. She wants to raise a child, but... No. She can't think about that now. She has to think of Emma.

Charming leans forward and kisses her gently. "I'll drop down to the pharmacy, get some condoms and be right back."

She nods. Another kiss, and he's out the door, hurrying down the stairs by the sounds of it. She takes the opportunity to head into the bedroom and toss off her clothes, slipping into a simple slip that Mary Margaret bought in a hopeful moment.

"Snow?" she hears Charming call as the door opens.

"In here!" she calls back, lying down on the bed.

"I got several boxes just to be sure, I don't want to..." Charming says as he walks inside, then trails off at the sight of her. He stares, then licks his lips. "Snow."

"Mm," she says. "You were saying?"

He holds up the bag, showing that he seems to have bought at least half the stock of condoms down at the pharmacy, but his gaze never leaves her. "I don't want to run out."

She grins. "I don't think we're in any danger of that in the immediate future."

"Yes, we are," he says firmly, and then he practically jumps into bed with her, kissing her and caressing her and making soft growls into her mouth – and all she can think of is wanting more.

Maybe he's right, she decides, tearing his shirt off and greedily caressing the smooth skin of his chest. Yeah. He's definitely right.

II

Hours later, Snow has curled herself across Charming, enjoying the heat of his skin against her own. She feels spent, her limbs heavy and she can already tell she will be slightly sore in the morning. After all, Mary Margaret didn't have a vigorous sex life, not like she had as Snow, so she is a little out of practice.

That's not the only thing different.

"I'm going to go on the pill," she murmurs, and he tilts his head to look at her.

"You know I don't mind the condoms, right?" he says softly. "I know we didn't have them in the Enchanted Forest, but David Nolan was familiar with them."

She nods. She doesn't ask how David Nolan was familiar with them. She rather not think about his fake memories or his time with Kathryn. Not now. Perhaps when she doesn't feel the loss of time they could have had together so keenly.

"I prefer it without them," she says honestly, and he makes a soft noise. She knows he prefers without them too, with the memory of all the times Snow and Charming slept together, and how.

He nods his acceptance, letting it be her decision. Then he draws his fingers across her thigh, and fatigue and desire begins a tug-of-war in her.

"Maybe I bought enough to last us until then," he says, eyeing the boxes he's put down on the night stand speculatively before giving her a wicked grin.

Desire wins.

"Let's find out," she says, and kisses him.

II

It does last them, as it turns out.

Only just.


	83. Chapter 83

_Prompt : watching Neal sleep soundly in the crib, Snow remembers last year specifically when she crushes the Charming's heart. She remembers his words and looks again to Neal, his heart tightem just thinking about the possibility seeing your son grow up without a father._

Her baby boy sleeping peacefully.

It's one of the most precious sights Snow knows, even though she's seen it every night and day for months now. Knowing she'll see him sleep for years to come doesn't make it less precious either, but somehow makes it more.

She's raising her son. She'll watch him sleep, watch him grow, watch him become a fine young man who might have children of his own one day. She'll be there for it all.

Neal makes a soft noise in his sleep, and she smiles at that. He's grown already, filling the crib more than he did when they brought him home for his first night there. He's started making noises too, and some of them she's even learned what means. He makes a certain noise when he's hungry, another when he just wants to be held. He babbles when he's happy, and he smiles at her when he sees her.

And today he laughed for the first time. She smiles at the memory of that, his bright eyes seeming to laugh as well. Her baby boy has such bright eyes, reminding her so very much of Charming's.

Charming's.

Her breath catches as her heart seems to tighten painfully. Charming told her once that she would see the love he held for her in their baby's eyes. He was right. She does see it. Their baby boy is love itself.

Love Charming was willing to die for. She crushed his heart at his insistence, and she still remembers how he gazed lovingly at her right until the moment he died.

She shudders at the though, hugging herself. Her Charming, dying for her and their baby. She would have lived on without him, trying to give Neal a sense of his father through her, but the pain of it...

Not seeing Neal crawl across his father's chest while Charming laughed? Not seeing Charming tuck his son in lovingly while humming a lullaby? Not falling asleep on Charming's shoulder while listening to him read to their baby? Not waking up every morning to Charming's body next to her and know whatever the day brought, he would be there to experience it with her?

Just the thought of that hurts.

She feels strong arms come around her, hugging her to him. _Charming._ She leans back against his chest, tilting her head to meet his soft kiss.

"Hey," he murmurs. "Sorry I'm late. Is he asleep already?"

"I just put him to bed," she murmurs, and Charming lowers his head to her shoulder, watching Neal with her. After a moment, the baby makes a soft noises and opens his eyes just barely.

"Hey," Charming says so softly it makes her heart ache. "Just go to sleep. Daddy's here now."

As if he understands, Neal smiles slightly. Then his eyes drift shut and he's sleeping again, sleeping so peacefully.

His daddy _is_ here, Snow thinks and clings to that. Neal didn't lose his father before he was even born, and she didn't lose her Charming. She can look into Charming's eyes and see the love he holds for her there, and he just has to feel his heartbeat to know the love she has for him.

"I never tire of this," Charming whispers into her ear, pressing a kiss against it as well. "I could watch him sleep for hours with you."

"Me too," she says, and they stay like that for a long time, just watching their baby sleep.

Together.


	84. Chapter 84

_Prompt = something about Snow noticing Charming's lopsided grin?_

He's smiling at her, Snow notices, glancing up at him.

Even now, after having been married for years, Charming's smile can still make her breath catch.

It started early on. She might have insulted him when he trapped her in a net, but she still noticed how attractive he looked grinning smugly, even if she also wanted to throw things at him for that very same grin. But that was nothing to how his hesitant, lopsided smile as he looked at her and seemed to truly see her made her feel. She is pretty sure she fell in love with him even before that, but that may have been the moment she truly realized how much she wanted to see him smile at her again.

He did. He smiled at her when she kissed him after remembering again, he smiled at her when she woke from her sleeping curse, he smiled at her when he married her, and oh how she loved every one of them.

He still smiles at her and she still loves them. She loves his assured grin, his amused smirk, the curve to his lips when he smiles into their kisses, his wide, open smile when he's happy, so very happy – all the different ways he can smile.

Like now. A soft, lopsided smile as he simply gazes at her, wrapped in his arms on the couch. Neal is sleeping in the crib just a few feet away.

She lifts her hand to his cheek, brushing her thumb across his lips. “What are you smiling at?”

“You,” he says simply, and she smiles back up at him and sees his eyes brighten and shine at her.

Even now, after having been married for years, her smile can still his eyes brighten.


	85. Chapter 85

_prompt: After a date in Granny's Dinner, Snow and Charming come home with wet hair. Emma leaving curious (embarrassing moments between parents and daughther)_

Neal is sleeping peacefully in his crib, and Emma is half asleep on the couch herself by the time she hears the front door creak open. Her parents at last, she assumes, rubbing her eyes and getting up. When she practically forced them to take a date night and let her babysit, she had actually expected them to hurry home as soon as they were allowed to. But no. Glancing at her watch, she notices it's actually past midnight.

Huh.

The lights are off, so she can only make out vague shapes, but the handholding is definitely her parents.

“Hey guys,” she says, though keeping her voice quiet. After finally coaxing her baby brother to sleep, she has no desire to wake him.

“Emma,” her mother says breathlessly. Huh. “We thought you were asleep.”

“Almost,” Emma replies, squinting at them. There is something... Odd. They look to be dressed in their coats like normally, maybe wrapped in them quite tightly but maybe it's cold outside. Still, there's something...

“We're sorry for being late,” David says. He sounds breathless too. Huh. “You're welcome to stay. We can make the bed for you upstairs.”

“No, I'll...” Emma begins, then finally realizes what's been nagging at her. It's their hair, and she blurts out what she's thinking before she can stop herself. “Is your hair wet?”

Mary Margaret's cheeks redden and David clears his throat, and Emma suddenly wishes she had never asked. A million different scenarios seem to flash through her mind at once.

“Water leak. At Granny's,” Mary Margaret says hurriedly.

A million minus one scenarios now, Emma thinks with a sigh, because her mother is an awful liar. Oh, hell. What did they do? She supposes the most obvious explanation would be that their fun at Granny's involved a bed rather than dinner, and they hurriedly had to shower afterwards when they realized how late it was. But surely they would have taken the time to dry up properly?

No. No no no. She's not going to start considering each of the million scenarios. No. She's not going to get curious about her parents' wet hair. She's _not_.

Except she is.

She's still staring at them, she realizes, and they're looking increasingly embarrassed. Oh, hell. Whatever they did, it must have been sufficiently naughty to embarrass _her parents_ , who not only do public displays of affection but public displays of making out and... Oh, hell.

“Okay,” Emma says brightly, cringing at the sound of her own voice. “I'm just going to go home and make toast. Or something. Yeah. Neal's fine. He's asleep. Like I will be. Yeah. Goodnight!”

“Goodnight, Emma,” her parents chorus, but make no move to hug her as they would normally. She nods at them, hurrying past and out the door, shutting it firmly behind her. Her cheeks feel hot.

What did her parents _do_?

II

 

“That could have gone better,” Charming says dryly, and Snow bites her lip not to laugh. “Could have gone worse too.”

“Worse how?” she asks, remembering the horrified look Emma had sent them.

“Well...” Charming says, letting go of her hand and eyeing her coat. “She could have realized I am actually shirtless because you are wearing only my shirt underneath this coat.”

“Only because my dress mysteriously vanished,” she replies, and he has the sense to look slightly shamed.

“Maybe I was in a slight hurry to remove it,” he concedes. “In my defense, I was trying to get my wife naked.”

“That's your defense?”

“Yes.”

She gives him a look, then a hard kiss. “Good. Get us some towels. I'll check on Neal.”

Neal is indeed happily asleep when she checks on him. Their baby boy sleeps like an angel, though she has no doubt he'll be awake in a few hours to ruin their sleep. Gently, she kisses his forehead and then wanders into their bedroom and begins to remove her coat. After a few moments, Charming joins her too, handing her a towel with a smile.

They undress quickly, since they are wearing less clothes then normally even with the coats. She finds a nightgown to pull on, while Charming opts for just pajamas pants before sitting down on the bed next to her and softly toweling her hair.

She leans into it, and he presses a quick kiss to her shoulder.

“I had fun tonight,” he murmurs.

“Skinny dipping in a forest lake, losing my dress and almost being caught out by our daughter is fun?” she asks, tilts her head back to look at him.

“Yes,” he says cheekily, his eyes bright with laughter and love.

She thinks of the evening they just spent together, starting so innocently with dinner at Granny's and ending with this, and somehow, she wouldn't change a thing.

“It _was_ fun,” she agrees, and kisses him.

(She just hopes Emma doesn't ask about the dent in the truck tomorrow, or their daughter may catch them out even more soundly than this evening.)


	86. Chapter 86

_Promot: Snowing - highschool au_

Mary Margaret squints at the building, trying to force the butterflies in her stomach to settle. Her new high school. Her new life, in fact. Not the life her father intended for her, but she will make the best of it regardless.

Just without her family. She’s all alone now.

Taking another breath, she steels herself and walks inside. Most don’t even give her a second glance, apart from a few leering glances from boys that makes her cheek redden. She keeps her head held high, though, walking on and turning a corner…

And spotting a blonde girl arguing with a boy with sandy-blond hair.

“No,” the girl says firmly. “No, you can’t…”

The boy steps closer to her, and memories of the leering boys floods Mary Margaret. Without thinking, she steps forward and hits with the only thing she has; her science book.

“Leave her alone!” she says heatedly.

The book hits the boy on the chin, and he steps backwards and trips, looking completely baffled. The girl does as well, blinking at her.

Then she laughs.

“Emma,” the boys says, sounding annoyed.

“Sorry, bro,” the girl – Emma – says, clearly trying to stifle her laughs and failing.

Mary Margaret stares from one to the other. Bro? Brother? Oh no. No. Has she…

Her cheeks redden, but Emma gives her a smile.

“I’m Emma Nolan. This is my brother. You must be the new girl.”

Mary Margaret can only nod, glancing down at the boy. He’s touching his chin, and she can see blood. Oh no.

“I’m so sorry, I thought…” she begins, biting her lip. “I am so sorry!”

The boy is looking less annoyed now, she notices. He might even be looking at her with slight admiration.

“Good swing,” he remarks, picking up the book she hit him with.

“Thanks,” she murmurs.

“David,” he says, holding out her book for her. “I’m David.”

“Mary Margaret,” she says breathlessly. “I’m sorry I hit you.”

He smiles; it lights up his entire face and makes his bright blue eyes seem radiant. His fingers touch hers as she reach out to accept the book from him, and something almost seems to jolt through her, like a spark. Her breath catches. His lips part too, and they stare at each other.

“Well, look at that,” Emma says, sounding strangely pleased, and Mary Margaret steps away hurriedly. David stares at her for a moment longer, then blinks and looks at Emma. “How about lunch, Mary Margaret?”

II

They have lunch, and Mary Margaret learns that Emma and David Nolan are siblings living with a foster family. It makes it easier for her to mention that she’s just lost her own father, and that her mother died when she was young, and both Emma and David seem sympathetic without giving her the kind of pity she’s found so stifling from others the last few weeks.

She also learns that the argument they were having were about David wanting to punch Emma’s ex for apparently being ‘a total ass’. Hes’ protective of her sister, and she can see the easy affection between them in how they tease and banter with each other.

Every now and then she catches David looking at her, and she feels that jolt again.

After a while, Emma excuses herself for class, leaving David and Mary Margaret. Even with all the buzz of high school around them, it strangely feels like it’s just the two of them.

“I am truly sorry,” she says after a moment.

He shrugs. “You thought you were protecting my sister. She might not act like it, but she needs someone to look after her.”

Mary Margaret finds herself nodding. Even if she’s only just met Emma, she has gotten the sense of a lot of hurt hidden behind strong walls.

“So in a way, it was the honorable thing to do,” he continues, giving her a faint smile.

“And you suffered an honorable injury,” she teases, and his smile widen. Without thinking, she lifts her fingers to the wound on his chin.

“What’s the damage like?” he asks softly. “Will I be marred forever by a science book?”

“No,” she says firmly. “You might get a scar, but it will… Add character. It’s kinda charming, actually.”

“Charming, huh?” he says, and their gazes lock. “I can live with that.”

II

He kisses her for the first time later that day, a soft, promising kiss against a tree in the backyard after she goes home with him and Emma. He smiles at her afterwards, and never lets go of her hand, not even when Emma teases them while clearly being quite, quite pleased by it all too.

They are a package deal, Mary Margaret has already figured out. David Nolan as a boyfriend means Emma Nolan as a friend too.

She can live with that.

Happily.


	87. Chapter 87

_prompt- A conversation between mother and daughter over last year in the Enchanted Forest. ( Emma asking if she missed him and about pregnancy)_

It's late, and Emma supposes she technically should be heading home. Only home is an empty apartment tonight with Henry staying at Regina's, and isn't particularly calling to her. Staying here tonight, with her parents, seem a much more tempting option, but she hasn't quite made herself ask. Even if she is getting increasingly comfortable with calling them mom and dad and letting them feel like her parents, she still feels strangely shy sometimes.

So instead she's simply let time pass without mentioning heading home at all, and her parents haven't made mention of it either. They all put Neal to bed together earlier and her parents somehow managed to trick Emma into singing half a lullaby while at it, and now, David has managed to fall asleep in Mary Margaret's lap, looking strikingly young while sleeping. 

Mary Margaret is drawing her fingers through his hair while Emma nurses her cup of hot chocolate. It's started raining outside, and the sound of rain against the window is quite lulling. 

She's missed this, Emma thinks, swallowing a lump in her throat. She's missed just being with her parents like this, doing nothing in particular except being together.

She missed a whole year of this, actually. 

“Mom?”

“Mmm,” Mary Margaret replies, blinking sleepily at her. “What is it, honey?”

“How was your year in the Enchanted Forest? Apart from all the Wickedness, I mean.”

Mary Margaret smiles faintly, tilting her head slightly while thinking. “Strange. We lived in Regina's – well, my family's castle – with her and the dwarfs and Belle and anyone who needed shelter.”

Emma nods softly. She's seen their world now, and knows just how well Snow White and Prince Charming fit into it. 

“Everything was different,” Mary Margaret goes on, a hint of sadness in her voice. “We made the best of it.”

“I suppose you thought ogres,” Emma says, remembering her own experiences with those.

“A few,” Mary Margaret admits. “We had a few adventures.”

“I bet,” Emma says dryly. Her parents and adventures seem to go hand-in-hand, and then some. She's gotten strangely used to it. 

“It helped,” Mary Margaret says absentmindedly, and Emma wonders just what it helped. Helped keep their minds off the threat against her brother? Helped them not miss... Miss her?

“Did you miss...” Emma begins, swallowing as her voice cracks slightly. “Did you miss me?”

“Every day,” Mary Margaret says, giving Emma a sad smile. “I tried to make the best of that too. I really believed you were happy with that life.”

“I was,” Emma says, and isn't sure if Mary Margaret is relieved about that or not. “It would have been a good life, mom. I would have been happy. But...”

“But...” Mary Margaret prompts softly, hopefully.

“I am happy we're together again,” Emma admits. “I'm glad Henry has his grandparents back. I'm glad I'm getting to know my baby brother.”

“Me too,” Mary Margaret says, quickly wiping away a tear. “He kicked as much as you did, actually.”

Emma tries to keep her voice light. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mary Margaret says, glancing down at David fondly. “Your father said that's how he knew Neal would be as strong as you are. He always used to caress my stomach when you kicked. It actually seemed to calm you down.”

Emma remembers walking in on them one evening after returning to Storybrooke and seeing just that, her father caressing the baby bump with soft strokes and murmuring reassurances to the baby. Knowing that he would do that with her as well makes feel... Weirdly happy. Maybe it's the hot chocolate. 

“I guess it worked on Neal too, huh?” she says casually. 

“Yeah,” Mary Margaret says, smiling down at David. “I wouldn't have been able to do it without your father.”

“The pregnancy?”

“That, and losing you again.”

Emma nods, and nods again, and clears her throat. “Let's not lose each other again. I have no desire to have to take up the family motto.” 

Mary Margaret chuckles. “I think I am ready to retire that myself.”

“Good,” Emma says. “I should probably...”

“The bed upstairs is made for you,” Mary Margaret says slightly. “If you want it.”

Emma frowns. She's been with her parents the whole evening, and hasn't noticed either of them sneaking upstairs to make the bed. “When did you do that?”

“We always keep it made for you,” Mary Margaret says, and Emma feels her heart tighten. “Just in case.”

Home, Emma thinks. She might not live her anymore, but this will always also be her home, with a ready bed whenever she wants it. 

“I think I'll use it tonight,” she says, and Mary Margaret smiles. “Goodnight, mom.”

“Goodnight, Emma,” Mary Margaret says, smiling at her. As Emma heads up the stairs, she catches a glimpse of her mother leaning down to wake up David with a kiss, like a princess waking sleeping handsome with true love's kiss. 

She smiles at that. Her fairy tale parents.

She's at home with that now – she's even a part of it.


	88. Chapter 88

Prompt:  
 _When Snow was pregnant, Charming used to sing a lullaby from his childhood to her stomach. Now, years later, Emma sings that same lullaby to Neal without realizing where she knows it from. Cue family feels when Snow and Charming walk in on the moment. ++ Bonus points for her singing that same song when she was pregnant with Henry._

Emma never imagined herself as a big sister.

As a daughter, yes. She had a million fantasies of finally, finally being adopted and becoming a daughter and not feeling like an orphan anymore. Of being loved, of being picked up at school, of eating dinner around a family table, of being tucked in and sung a lullaby to. She lived on those fantasies. But somehow, they never really included siblings. Maybe because the one time she came close to being adopted, the baby ended up taking her place rather than becoming her younger brother. 

So she didn't imagine herself with siblings. She imagined herself with loving parents, mom and dad and Emma. A family. 

She got that. Mom and dad. She just also got a baby brother, one that will never take her place, but is making a new one for her. 

She's a big sister as well as a daughter now. And like all big sisters, she's watching over him. 

David and Mary Margaret are having their semi-weekly date night, which probably involves all sorts of things daughters definitely shouldn't imagine, and always brings them home happy and smiling and sometimes slightly disheveled. They could have Ruby or Belle or Granny or sometimes even Regina babysit, but somehow, Emma started offering and now it seems to be becoming as much a tradition as the date night itself, this babysitting of Neal. 

He is a lovely baby. Emma can see her parents in him, and a bit of Henry as well, which probably means there's a lot of her in the baby as well. He is her brother, after all. Her brother. 

Which also means he can be as stubborn as she can be, and tonight, he doesn't want to sleep. He's played with his dragon and sheep toys, and normally that would be enough excitement to make him fall right asleep. But tonight, he's fussy and fidgeting in her arms, and no amount of soft talking or gentle rocking seems to do the trick. She's tried walking, and letting him lie on her chest, and now she's just sitting with him on the bed, unsure of what to try next.

Henry had a few nights like that, she remembers, but those are fake memories. Still, there was that one thing she used to do before Henry was even born, when he was restless and kicking in her stomach.

She sings. Hesitantly at first, but growing in confidence as Neal's small cries start to fade and soon he's simply looking up at her with calm eyes. It worked on Henry too, she remembers, this lullaby, the only one she knows. 

“Emma,” her mother says, and Emma looks up sharply to see her parents standing in the room. She's been so engrossed in the baby she didn't even hear them enter. They're looking at her oddly, she notices, her mother almost teary and David with an expression of wonder. 

“Hey,” she says, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I was just...”

“Singing a lullaby,” David says breathlessly. “Emma... Where did you learn that song?”

“I don't know,” she replies, trying to remember. Where does she know this song from? She can't remember anyone singing it to her. “I must have picked it up somewhere. It's just a lullaby.”

David and Mary Margaret exchange a glance, then let go of each other's hand to sit down on the bed, one on each side of her. Neal coos excitedly as they enter his field of vision, and Mary Margaret holds out a finger for him to grab. 

“It's not just a lullaby,” Mary Margaret says softly, smiling down at Neal. “Hey.”

“It was my lullaby,” David says, and Emma looks up at him in surprise. His eyes are warm, but she sees a flash of sadness in them. “My mother used to sing it to me. She made it up just for me. She couldn't give me a lot of things, but she could give me that. My own lullaby.”

“But...” she says, her mind reeling. “How did... Why do I know it?”

“He used to sing it to you,” Mary Margaret says, tucking a strand of Emma's hair behind her ear, smiling at her with just as much love as she just gave Neal. “Before you were born, there were nights where you were restless and kicking. Nothing seemed to calm you. Except...”

“The lullaby,” Emma says, her breath catching as she catches on. She shifts her gaze to her father, who is also smiling at her.

“It was the only one I knew,” he says softly. “But it seemed to work. So I started singing it to you every night. Even the night before... Before you were born.”

Emma swallows, and swallows again. It seems an incredible notion, that she should somehow remember a lullaby from before she was even born. But on the other hand, being the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, that seems pretty incredible too. 

“Oh,” she says. She swallows again. She watches her parents link hands across her, and exchanging looks in the way that they do, silent communicating something.

Then David starts to sing his lullaby – their lullaby -, and Mary Margaret rests her head on Emma's shoulder while Neal's tiny fingers play with their parents' linked hands. 

A family. A lullaby. This isn't what she imagined, Emma thinks while fighting the tears that threaten to spill. For one thing, she's the same age as her parents, and she's holding a baby brother younger than his own nephew. 

But still.

It's mom and dad and Emma, with the addition of baby Neal, and a family lullaby.


	89. Chapter 89

Prompt:  
 _Emma takes baby Neal and Henry on a nice long day out and a movie and a sleepover with her and uncle hook. Snow and Charming catch up on some well needed "rest" in fact they "rest" all day_

II

They needed rest, Emma had decided. After weeks of keeping Storybrooke safe, being the sheriff and the mayor and looking after a baby, neither of them had had much time for anything. So, that morning, she had simply informed them that herself and Hook were taking care of baby Neal and Henry for the day and the evening, and no arguments would change that.

Snow had tried to argue. Charming had simply taken a look at his daughter's determined face, known it to be a combination of his own and Snow's determination, and had known there was no points in arguments.

He might also have enjoyed seeing his daughter taking charge. 

So here they are, watching the door close behind a waving Henry, leaving them all alone in the apartment for a whole day and probably most of the evening. 

Snow is biting her lip, and he gently puts his arms around her. 

“What if...” she says, and he silences her with a soft kiss. After a moment, she sighs into it, putting her hands around his neck.

“Emma will look after her baby brother,” he assures her, and she does nod. “Come what ifs.”

“I know. I trust Emma. I just...”

He kisses her again, brushing his lips against hers until she leans into him. He knows what Snow fears, what they both fear. They've lost one baby already, and he supposes the fear of losing another will always linger somewhat. But he will still do all he can to ease it. 

Snow arches into him, and he smiles against her lips.

“We have a whole day to ourselves,” he murmurs softly. “What shall we do about that?”

Her sly glance at him is as mischievous as he feels. “Emma did say we needed rest.”

“Mmm,” he agrees, the rest swallowed by her eager lips as she deepens the kiss and he backs her into the kitchen counter.

It's as good a place as any to start, he reckons.

II

“Hello?”

The sound of the door opening and Emma's voice makes Snow dive for the nearest shirt, which happens to be his, while he tries to untangle the sheets enough to make him decent. 

He manages. Barely. 

Of course Emma and Henry are home early. Of course. Or maybe he and Snow lost track of time around round six. Or was it seven?

Moments later, Henry is peeking into the living room, looking quite surprised at the sight of them bundled into a blanket on the couch. 

“We were resting,” Charming says before Henry can even ask what they're doing, managing to keep his face relatively straight. This is starting to feel like a bit of a family tradition. “On the couch.”

“We're not home early because anything is wrong, don't worry. Neal is asleep, he was no trouble at all and...” Emma says, walking in behind Henry, freezing at the sight of them. Neal is tucked into her arms in a way that makes his heart ache and swell at the same time. “Seriously?!”

Snow blushes, and Charming finds her hand underneath the covers. 

“Didn't you want them to rest?” Henry asks innocently, and Charming bites his lip hard to keep from laughing. 

“Not on the couch,” Emma says, giving them a pointed look as if she was the parent and they the horny teenagers. “I'm going to tuck my brother in, and we're going to let David and Mary Margaret finish resting on the couch. I mean, stop resting on the couch. Right now. Right.”

With that, she stomps off. Henry looks after her, then seems to shrug. He leans forward and lowers his voice. “Gramps, I don't think you should have sex with Grams on the couch. Mom is going to figure out that's what resting means sooner or later.”

“Thanks, Henry,” Charming manages to say, wondering who the hell has given the kid the birds and bees talk. He sure hopes it wasn't Hook. 

Snow looks torn between mortification and amusement as Henry follows Emma and leaves them alone in the living room. 

“Emma is never going to leave us alone ever again,” he says, and Snow smacks him lightly on the arm. “Look on the bright side. At least she didn't catch us resting on the kitchen counter. Or the table. Or in the shower. Or on the floor. Or...”

She kisses him, interrupting his list, but he doesn't mind. He sighs happily into the kiss instead, enjoying the way her lips curve against his, familiar and enticing in one. 

“Next time, we take the truck,” she says firmly, and kisses him again. “And we stop calling it 'rest' and come up with something better.”

II

The next week, Charming takes his wife to 'unwind'; he is pretty sure Emma isn't fooled one bit when they get home and Snow turns out to have put her shirt back on the wrong way.


	90. Chapter 90

Prompt: _can u write something about Snow & Charming and hot chocolate?_

II

Snow has always liked hot chocolate with cinnamon.

Johanna would make her cups of it whenever she couldn't sleep after her mother died. It seemed to be the only thing that could make Snow feel warm the first few weeks afterwards. Years later, it had become a habit and a comfort.

Even as Mary Margaret, she enjoyed it. She didn't quite know why when she was still cursed, just knowing it felt right for her in a way nothing else in her life did. (At least until David Nolan woke up.)

Then she learned to love it again, as it became a connection to her daughter. Emma loved hot chocolate with cinnamon as well, and Henry did. It was almost like it was inherited, a family thing, something to tie them all together when time had put so much between them.

David, on the other hand, never much cared for the taste. Which is why tasting it in his kiss as he gently shifts into bed with her is making her smile against his lips.

She knows where he's been.

“What?” he murmurs, his hands moving under the covers to settle on her waist and pull her closer to him.

“You've been with Emma,” she says, rubbing her finger across his lips.

“Mmm,” he agrees. “We went to Granny's after finishing up at the sheriff station. How did you know?”

“Hot chocolate with cinnamon,” she says, and he smiles faintly. “You only have it when you're with Emma, or Henry, or me.”

He gets the look she recognizes as firmly busted, and she strokes his cheek affectionately.

“I know you've always pretended to like it,” she says, and he shakes his head lightly.

“I'm not pretending.”

“Charming, I know you.”

“Yes,” he agrees happily. “You know me. I love you. I love Emma. I love Henry. How can I not love what my family shares and enjoys together? I might not like the taste, Snow – but I love hot chocolate with cinnamon.”

She pulls him into a fierce kiss at that. Of course. Of course Charming would love something because his family does, because he is Charming. She knows him.

“I love you,” she murmurs against his lips.

“Is that the hot cinnamon talking?” he teases, brushing his lips against hers until he draws a moan from her as well.

“It does taste good on you,” she teases back, and his grin is quite, quite wicked.

“Is that so?”

It is; she makes sure she gets a proper sampling before deciding, however.


	91. Chapter 91

Prompt: _Snow and Charming have a third child_

II

At least there is no curse and no Wicked Witch this time, Charming reflects. That's good.

That's about the only good. 

Truck in the ditch, phone lines all dead and storm coming, those are all not so great things.

Wife in labor, that's a downright bad thing. 

At least they've found a cabin to shelter in, and he's tore up blankets and some tarp and anything he can find, really, and is desperately trying to make Snow as comfortable as he can, but it's becoming increasingly clear that this baby is going to follow tradition of being born under less than stellar circumstances. 

“Breathe, Snow,” he says, and she hears her practically hiss. He can feel her body tense as another contraction hits, and she squeezes his hand as she has only done twice before. Emma. Neal. This will be number three. He refuses to consider otherwise. 

“Charming...” she murmurs, biting her lip at the pain, and he wipes her forehead gently. 

“You can do this,” he tells her reassuringly. “We can do this.”

She smiles weakly, and he eases her down on the pillows while pressing a kiss to her forehead. Gently, he moves down to check how dilated she is, comforting himself with the fact that at least Whale is not down between his wife's legs this time. He'd rather have that particular privilege all to himself, all things considered. 

(He does enjoy it so, after all. The fact that they're on baby three kinda proves that point.)

Snow hisses again. “Charming...”

“Yes,” he says gently. “You're going to have to push. This baby is coming. It's as stubborn as...”

Even hours into contractions, his wife can still send him a withering look, he notes. Quite impressive, really.

“... As the whole family is,” he amends quickly. 

Snow closes her eyes and he can see the flash of fear across her face. Then she breathes in, and he can see her summon all the strength and fierceness, and oh, how he loves her.

“Okay,” she says, sounding every bit as much as a fighter as the day he met a bandit in the woods. 

“Okay,” he agrees.

She pushes. And pushes, and pushes, and pushes, on and on and on, crying out with the pain of it, and battling her exhaustion every time. He can only help as best he can, offering comforting words and reassurances and whatever calm he can manage to hold onto.

Then, like a miracle, he can see the head of the baby, and his heart seems to freeze in his chest. Their child. Their child is being born. 

The lights flicker. 

Snow screams. 

His hands seem to know what to do on their own, supporting and then lifting the tiny, tiny life that breathes in and cries out. He can feel his own eyes tear, as awed by this as the other two times.

“Snow, it's a girl,” he tells her, and she smiles weakly as he helps guide the baby to her chest. It – she – makes a small cry, and he marvels at the sound.

“Hey,” Snow says, looking exhausted and yet as beautiful as ever. She too, is on the verge of tears. 

“I love you,” he tells Snow, pressing a fierce kiss to her temple. Quickly, he bundles her and the baby up as much as he can, knowing that the placenta will be pushed out soon as well. (He has read a few books on childbirth and pregnancy by now, after all. Half a library worth or so.)

That's when the door slams open and Emma comes charging in, looking so worried it warms his heart. 

“Do you two idiots have any idea how long I've been searching for you in this weather only to find your truck in a ditch and...”

She trails off.

“Hey, Emma,” he says, smiling at her. “Would you like to meet your baby sister?”

II

Hours and a hospital visit later, Snow and baby are both clean and resting in bed, having been given a clean bill of health after several check-ups. As he exists their bedroom, he finds Emma and Neal are sitting in the kitchen, discussing how to be a proper big brother to a baby since Neal wants to get that right and thinks Emma is the expert at being a great older sibling. 

“So kids,” he tells Emma and Neal, who both beam up at him. “You guys ready to meet your little sister?”

Neal nods seriously, as if he's taking on a big responsibility. He takes Emma's hand, and together, the pair of them walk into the bedroom where Snow is waiting for them. 

Outside, the storm is now battering at the windows, and Charming couldn't care less. He has all he needs here, his whole world, in fact. His family – once again extended.


	92. Chapter 92

Prompt: _Neal discovers he, too, has powers, and is frightened and doesn't want to tell anyone._

II

The first time he makes the lights flicker, Neal is sure it's just a coincidence. It's only for a moment, after all, and he doesn't think his parents even notice, busy as they are with exchanging gross kisses in the kitchen. (They're often gross like that. It's just a fact of life, Neal thinks.)

The second time, when he makes his night lamp glow even without being plugged in, he tries as hard as he can to ignore it. He can't have made that happen. He can't.

The third time, he can't ignore it. His whole palm is glowing, and he can feel the warmth in his skin. Magic. He has magic.

Oh no.

He shoves his hand as hard as he can into his pocket, and looks around the living room. Mom and dad are setting the table, and Emma is talking animatedly about evil sheep in a way that makes dad laugh. No one seems to have noticed. Good, he can...

A light bulb blows. Then another.

“What the hell?” dad says. Mom jumps, looking around as if trying to see where her bow is. (Neal has seen her shoot it several times and can't wait for when she will start teaching him. Dad's just started with the sword lessons, but only wooden swords so far.)

Emma is looking at him.

“Neal?” she asks gently.

“Neal?” mom repeats, sounding puzzled. She looks at him, and Neal lifts his hand to see his palm is still glowing. Oh no.

Another light bulb goes. Mum, dad and Emma all turn around briefly to look at it, and Neal takes that as his opportunity. He runs.

“Neal!” mom calls after him, but he doesn't listen. He just runs, run and runs until he's out of breath.

His palm isn't glowing anymore, he notices glumly. Too late now, and he sits down on the sidewalk, kicking at little rocks.

He doesn't want this.

“Hey, kid,” Emma says, and he looks up in surprise to see his big sister looking down at him affectionately.

“Hey,” he mutters, looking down at the ground again. He can hear her sit down next to him, and then she starts kicking a few rocks as well. He waits, but she seems content to let him speak first. “Did mom and dad send you?”

“No,” she says, and he glances up at her. “I had to persuade them to wait at home and let me find you.”

“Oh,” he murmurs. “Are they angry?”

“About what?” she asks lightly, her face not giving anything away.

“Magic,” he says in a low voice.

“Why would they be angry about magic?” she asks.

“Because,” he says, trying to find the words. “Henry read me their story. Magic split mom and dad up, cursed them. Lots of villains have magic.”

“So do I,” Emma counters, but without any angry.

“But you're the Savior. Henry told me. That's different.”

“No, it's not,” she says firmly. “Neal, your abilities are just that. They're abilities. They're not who you are. That's what you do with it. Mom's a great archer and dad's great with swords. You know what they do with those?”

“Fight bad guys,” Neal answers promptly. He knows that. He's even seen it.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Because they choose to. You can do the same with your magic.”

“Fight bad guys?” he asks hopefully.

“Fight bad guys,” she agrees. “I can help you.”

“You can?”

“Yeah. You know how dad teaches you sword-fighting and mom's going to teach you archery? I can teach you magic.”

He beams. The thought of learning magic from his big sister, from Emma, the coolest person in the world apart from mom and dad, that's so awesome he can't help but grin.

Emma smiles at him, then takes his hand and leaves it palm up next to her own. Hers is glowing faintly, he notices, awed, and as if responding, his own begins to glow again as well.

“Cool,” he breathes.

“Cool,” she agrees. “I know it's scary, Neal. I didn't want my magic. I even tried to get rid of it once. But a friend reminded me it was a part of me. It's a part of you, Neal, and mom and dad are going to love you just as much with magic as without. Trust me, I know.”

He swallows, then nods. Emma smiles encouragingly at him, then bends down to whisper conspiratorially.

“You know the coolest thing about magic?”

“What?” he asks excitedly.

“You can do things like this,” she says, waving her hand and moments later they're sitting on the couch at home rather than at the sidewalk, and make mom and dad almost jump (interrupting another gross kiss, Neal notices with disgust) and look downright comical.

It makes him laugh, and a moment later Emma joins in, and mom and dad seem to give up being angry and just smile at them instead.

This might not be bad after all, Neal decides, if it makes him more like his big sister, the best person in the whole wide world (next to mom and dad).


	93. Chapter 93

prompt: _you could write a conversation between Regina and Snow about having an affair with a married man? I’m still a bit upset to have deleted this scene._

II

“Now I know how you felt,” Regina murmurs, and Snow glances up from baby Neal in her arms to see her step-mother slump down on the couch next to her.

“Heard of knocking, Regina?” she says, and Regina waves a hand as if such things are below her. Right. That hasn’t changed. “Know how I felt about what?”

“David Nolan,” Regina says, staring ahead.

“Oh,” Snow says softly. “Robin?”

“Robin,” Regina confirms. She closes her eyes for a moment. “He has a wife, a wife I have to save the life of because it’s the right thing to do, but when I look at him…”

“He’s the only thing that feels right,” Snow says softly, remembering Mary Margaret.

Regina nods defeatedly. “How do you… How do you fix it?”

“We didn’t,” Snow says, and her heart aches slightly at the memory. “We made a mess of it, David Nolan and Mary Margaret. Regina, when you loved someone who is married… There is no fix. Someone’s heart is going to get broken. Maybe even everyone’s.”

Regina looks as if she’s feeling the heartbreak already.

“Charming was engaged when he met me,” Snow goes on, though she’s well aware Regina knows that already. “He chose not to marry her because he loved me. Regina, if you choose to follow your heart… At least be honest about it. It might not fix it, but it might keep it from becoming an even bigger mess.”

“How can it become a bigger mess than it already is?” Regina says, giving a hopeless sort of laugh.

“I don’t know,” Snow admits. “But it always seems to manage to.”

They sit in silence for a long time, Regina seeming to find some sort of comfort in the company. In the corner of her eye, Snow can see Charming sitting on the stairs, clearly not wanting to interrupt their moment.

“I’m sorry,” Regina says suddenly, and Snow looks up in surprise. “For David Nolan. I was so determined to hurt you, and I knew he was the best way to do it.”

Snow swallows. It’s the first time Regina has actually uttered an apology for what she did, and strangely, it sort of hurts.

“We found each other,” she manages to say, feeling Charming’s eyes on her.

“You always do,” Regina says, and doesn’t even sound annoyed at it anymore. “Is that husband of yours going to sit there uselessly all day or come and join us?”

“Nice to see you too, Regina,” Charming says dryly, but he does get up and sits down on the couch next to Snow, putting an arm around her. “Are you staying for dinner?”

“She is,” Snow says firmly, and Regina looks almost grateful for a moment before managing to hide it behind a mask of feigned indifference. But still. It’s a moment enough.


	94. Chapter 94

Prompt: _can u write something with Elsa & Emma & Snowing after shattered sight?_

II

“Do they do… That a lot?”

Emma turns to see Elsa looking quizzically out through the window, and following her gaze, she can see right away what has Elsa wondering.

Her parents. Making out in the middle of the street. Again. Apparently the first round just after the curse was broken wasn’t enough for them. Then again, they do this without curses too, so she supposes that for them, they can never get enough of the other.

“Yes,” she says, shrugging slightly. “Why?”

Elsa smiles, but a touch wistfully. “They’re very loving.”

“Yeah,” Emma agrees softly. She gives her parents another look, noticing how her father is cradling her mother’s face almost reverently. “I wonder sometimes…”

“What, Emma?” Elsa asks gently, stepping closer as if detecting something in her voice.

“What it would have been like to be raised by them,” Emma admits, and feels Elsa’s supportive hand on her own.

“I wonder that too,” Elsa says, and Emma looks at her. “Not what it would be like to be raised by your parents, but by parents who loved without reservation or fear.”

They smile sadly at each other, a strange sort of understanding passing between them. Impulsively, Emma leans forward to hug her.

“I’ll miss you,” she murmurs, meaning it.

“I will miss you too, Emma,” Elsa says. “If you and your parents ever settle in Misthaven again, I will come to visit you often.”

Emma just nods vaguely. If that will ever be an option again, she isn’t sure. But she is sure that if it ever comes to that, she will visit Arendelle often as well.

“Your aunt wanted us to be sisters,” Emma says after a moment, pulling back. “I suppose that means you can adopt my parents.”

Elsa smiles at that, glancing outside where David is lifting Mary Margaret up, spinning her around while she laughs into the kiss. “I would like that.”

“Good,” Emma says briskly. “Then you can share my embarrassment and help me interrupt them whenever they get close to indecent. Which is quite often.”

“It would be my honor,” Elsa says formally, and arm in arm, they walk outside to make identical faces at the parental making out.


	95. Chapter 95

Prompt: _How about a naughty fic. I would take anything._

II

“Snow?”

The flat is dark as he enters, and eerily quiet, and he almost wonders if he's missed out on a message or something, and that his whole family is actually waiting for him at Granny's for an almost-Christmas lunch. But no. The last text from Snow simply says “come home”. 

“Snow?” he calls out again.

“In here!” he finally hears, from the bedroom no less. Puzzled, he walks over and peeks through the curtains. 

“Snow, what's...” he begins, but the words die on his lips. 

“Yes?” Snow says, smiling up at him. “You were saying, Charming?”

He just stares. His wife, breathtakingly beautiful in anything she wears, is wearing a thin, almost see-through red slip that clings to her curves in an utterly indecent and delightful way. What's more, she's sitting on the bed and looking up at him through lowered eyelids and slightly parted lips.

“Snow,” he manages to say, his voice husky even to him. 

She smiles at him, clearly delighted by his reaction. “Emma is watching Neal for the night with Henry. She won't be home until tomorrow. I thought...”

“You thought good,” he manages to say, bending down to kiss her fiercely. She hums into it, brushing her thumb along his cheek and pressing herself against him as much as she can. Which really isn't nearly enough, as far as he's concerned, so he gives up on standing and falls into the bed.

She laughs into the kiss at that, but judging by how eagerly she's shedding his jacket, she has no complaints. None at all. 

He kisses all the gloriously exposed skin as she continues tearing his clothes off, pausing now and then to brush her palms across his skin. They have time, he thinks happily, a whole night of it. That is quite the gift indeed, to two-time parents trying to arrange the perfect family Christmas and wearing themselves out in the process.

As if knowing what he's thinking, Snow cradles his head in her hands and presses a soft kiss against his lips. “Merry Christmas, Charming.”

He grins. “Is this my reward for being nice?”

“No,” she says firmly, biting her lower lip in that way she does. “This is your encouragement to be thoroughly naughty.”

Right, he thinks, pressing her closer and kissing her deeply until she moans against his lips. Naughty. He can definitely do that. 

All night.


	96. Chapter 96

marta-ilovewrite promted: _The Charmings first Christmas in Storybrooke (Baby Neal included). I love you fics Cam <3 _

II

There are a lot of firsts Snow has really enjoyed.

Her first hot chocolate with cinnamon, in the kitchen with her mother telling her about birds.

The first time she rode among the trees in the forest and felt free and just like Snow, not just a princess.

The first kiss she ever gave, even if it was with Charming against a tree and with an arrow in his shoulder. 

Her first time, with Charming's forehead press against hers, loving words whispered and warm hands caressing while her body arched into his. 

The first time she felt like a ruler, when she made a decision everyone nodded at along the council table and Charming smiling happily at her by her side.

Emma's first kick against her palm, as she rested in Charming's arm and marveled at the thought of life growing inside her. 

The first time Emma called her mom, even if it was at the end of the world (at the time).

And this, the first Christmas Eve with her whole family, with Emma and Henry, with baby Neal, with Charming. It is incredibly enough their first proper Christmas together, what with cruses and crisis and separations. 

It's good. Charming gets the tree, with the help of the dwarfs. Emma and Henry decorate it together, discussing careful where each ornament should go. Emma holds her baby brother too, letting him “help” hang up a few ornaments as well.

Charming puts up mistletoe and steals a dozen kisses Emma rolls her eyes at, and two dozen more Emma doesn't even see.

Regina stops by with food, of all things, and a slightly sarcastic, yet somehow also sincere Christmas greetings. Henry will be with her tomorrow, and smiles in excitement at that. Emma has her own date tomorrow as well, Snow knows, even if Charming pretends to ignore it. Still, he does let Hook come in for hot cocoa and, as it turns out, leaving gifts for the whole family. 

That makes Emma smile even more, and Snow already knows that smile if worth pretty much anything. To have her daughter happy, that is a true gift. 

They have a meal together that consists of Enchanted Forest recipes alongside those Mary Margaret knows, and somehow, that works too. And because Henry will be at Regina's tomorrow, they open the gifts afterwards. Henry is of course the most excited, but Snow catches Emma smile at more than one gift, including several from herself and Charming. 

There are gifts for Neal too, who is much too young to appreciate them now, but smiles up at them every time they coo at him. Just them being there seems to be all it takes to make him happy, and Snow takes Emma's hand and hopes it is the same for their daughter. 

Maybe it is. While Henry ends up on the floor playing with a new game Emma got him, Emma herself curls up on the couch with her head against Charming's shoulder. He looks as if he's just been given another gift, and gently puts his arm around her. Snow cradles Neal in her arms and then mirrors Emma's position on the other side of Charming, and he puts an arm around her as well.

“Thanks,” Emma murmurs after a while. She is looking at the star at the top of the Christmas tree almost intently. “I always wanted a Christmas like this.” 

“Me too,” Charming says easily. “I got the most beautiful women in all the realms in my arms and...”

“Dad,” Emma says pointedly, but she is smiling. “I'm just saying... Thanks for my first family Christmas.”

“The first of many,” Charming promises, pressing a kiss to Emma's temple, then Snow's.

“The first of many,” Snow agrees. 

“The first of many,” Emma says hopefully, still staring at the star. 

The best thing about firsts is that they are just that, Snow thinks. Firsts. They're followed by seconds, thirds and on and on, hopefully happily ever after.


	97. Chapter 97

nan119cat prompted: _Emma asks Snow to teach her how to shoot a bow. Snow and Emma fluff galore._

II

No matter how many times it's happened, seeing Charming hurt always hurts her too, Snow thinks, and presses a loving kiss to his temple. He smiles weakly, then winces as she touches the bruise at the side of his face. It's not the only bruise either. There are also broken ribs, and she is already determined to keep in bed for at least three days. (And knows Charming will be trying to sneak out of bed a lot earlier.)

Of course he got them trying to protect his son and daughter. 

“I'm sorry,” Emma says, wringing her hands. She looks as anxious as Snow feels. “I wasn't fast enough.”

“It's okay,” Charming says, smiling softly at Emma. “He just knocked me out. You got him in the end.”

Emma and Snow exchange pained gazed. They both know it's not okay. Nearly losing Charming is nowhere near okay. 

“Rest now,” Snow tells him firmly, leaning down to give him a soft kiss that he sighs happily into. “I love you.”

He smiles, then obediently closes his eyes. Moments later, he's fast asleep, and Snow walks out quietly. Emma follows, still looking troubled.

“I'm sorry, mom,” Emma says again, but Snow just hugs her.

“It's not your fault,” she says, and Emma sighs. 

“I didn't have my gun and I had to get dad's sword – I was too slow,” Emma mutters, sounding pained. 

“Emma...” Snow says softly. Her daughter really is as good as she is at blaming herself, and that hurts. 

“Your bow was there, but I don't know how to use it,” Emma goes on. “Mom? Could you teach me?”

Snow pulls back, cradling her daughter's face in her hands. Emma looks pained, but also determined, an expression Snow knows so very well, given how many times she's seen Charming look like that.

“Yes,” Snow says, nodding. If this is what her daughter needs, she will happily give it.

II

They set up a sort-of shooting range outside, nailing a target to the tree. At first, Snow simply teaches Emma how to holds the bow and aim, but soon enough Emma is nailing arrows to the tree. Far off target to begin with, but Emma is persistent. 

The first arrow that hits the targets makes Emma beam, and Snow hugs her impulsively. They smile at each other, and Emma glances down at the bow.

“Did your mother teach you?” 

Snow swallows, thinking of her mother and all the things she never got to teach. “No. I'm not sure she would think it was something a princess should learn either.”

Emma makes a face. “As far as I'm concerned, it's something a princess should definitely learn.”

“You're learning it now,” Snow points out.

“Huh,” Emma says. “I never... Never thought of myself as a princess.”

“It's okay,” Snow says softly, knowing it isn't. Not really. “You don't have to. But you'll always be a princess to us.”

Emma nods briefly, as if accepting that. “Is there anything else you learned that princess shouldn't?”

“Plenty,” Snow says, thinking back. “I was a bandit, after all.”

“I'd love to learn from a bandit,” Emma says mischievously, holding out the bow. “Show me?”

Snow smiles, accepting the bow. Within seconds, she has nailed three arrows perfectly to the target. 

Emma nods, and Snow has no doubt that Emma will practice until she can do the same. She is as determined as Snow is to keep their loved ones safe. Henry. Baby Neal. Charming. 

“Like mother, like daughter,” a voice says behind them, and they turn to see Charming leaning against the door. He looks pained, but his face is bright with love. “My two bandit princesses.”

Emma rolls her eyes slightly, but looks strangely touched as well. “Geez, dad. That's corny even for you.”

“Yours?” Snow says, raising an eyebrow.

“Mine,” Charming simply, smiling at them. Snow supposes he isn't really wrong – but he is also theirs, her husband and Emma's father, and they _will_ keep him safe. 

II

A few days later, Snow gets Emma her own bow, and they spend hours in garden shooting at targets while Charming simply watches, enjoying the view.


	98. Chapter 98

prompt: _in the enchanted forest Charming go to Thomas' (Cinderella's prince) bachelor party a tavern and Snow gets jealous._

II

This is really, really stupid, Snow reminds herself. Really phenomenally stupid – and yet she's still doing it, still sneaking around the tavern to spy on her husband, who she knows is her true love with a broken curse to prove it.

Stupid.

Yet, since the moment she heard Prince Thomas had invited Charming and a few other princes to a night out just before the wedding to Cinderella, this stupidity more or less became inevitable. It's not that she doesn't trust Charming. She does.

She just distrusts everyone else. She's seen enough men at taverns during her bandit days to know things happen when men get drunk, and she's certainly seen how women admire Charming often enough as well. 

He's _hers_ , she thinks possessively. Her husband, her Charming. She won't let anyone make attempts at him but her. 

So she's being stupid. She has accepted that. 

Through the window, she can see inside the tavern and make out Prince Thomas laughing at his friends. Charming too, is laughing, and her heart skips a beat to see him. He doesn't seem overly drunk so far, just merrily tipsy. 

She looks fondly at him a moment too long, it feels like, because he turns as if noticing and she hurried ducks.

Stupid, she thinks, cursing herself quietly. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She nearly got seen, and for what? Watching her husband be silly with his friends?

At least no one knows she's here. She found her old bandit clothes in a chest in the castle, and managed to sneak out unseen. She is pretty good at not being found when she wants to be, after all.

Carefully, she gets up and starts tip-toeing towards the back door. Maybe she can sneak into the kitchen and pretend to be a serving girl and...

“Hello, Snow.”

She nearly jumps out of her skin, and whips around to see Charming grinning at her. He looks quite pleased with himself as well, she notices, and wishes he didn't look so damn attractive while doing so.

“Charming,” she says, and he practically stalks over to her, pinning her against the wall. “I was just...”

“I know what you were just,” he says, his voice husky. “You were just sneaking out to spy on your own husband.”

She licks her lips. “I know it's stupid. I do trust you, Charming. I just... I know how men get in taverns and...”

He kisses her before she can finish, tasting of mead and something sweet. He seems equally determined to taste her, tugging at her bottom lip until she parts them. She tilts her head to meet his kiss, arching slightly into him as his hands roam her sides.

“I found you,” he murmurs, sounding quite, quite happy about it. “I spent most of the evening listening to Thomas talk about how much he loves his princess while missing you. Missing you a lot. But here you are.”

“Charming,” she gasps, as his hands presses her more firmly against him, and she gets a very _firm_ idea of just how happy he is to see her. 

“Snow,” he says, her name a caress in his mouth. She has to smile at that, and then a touched wickedly. 

“Charming, have you ever ravished someone at a night out at a tavern before?” she asks, caressing his lower lips with her thumb. 

“Never,” he swears. “Snow, I don't care what you've seen other men do. I'm not them.”

“Shh,” she says, pressing her thumb more firmly against his lip. “I know. I do know, Charming. I was just being stupid. Still, maybe you would like to change that never to 'yes, my wife'.”

She'll take his kiss as a yes, she figures.


	99. Chapter 99

Prompt: _snowing having a fun conversation about his long hair when he was a sheperd._

II

“I can't believe it,” Snow says, her fingers playing lightly with the short hairs at the back of his neck. 

“Mmm?” he says, opening his eyes. He is warm, content and has a naked Snow in his arms in bed, and as far as he is concerned, everything is right with the world. “What can't you believe?”

“That you had long hair,” she giggles, and he narrows his eyes theatrically.

“Who sold me out? Kristoff? Anna?” he murmurs, brushing his nose against hers.

“Both,” she informs him, and he sighs as if in defeat. “They managed to paint quite the picture.”

“Traitors,” he huffs. 

“Any particular reason for it?” she teases. “To rebel against hairdressers? To blend in with the sheep?”

“Hey!” he says, and she giggles. “Don't drag the sheep into this.”

This time, she downright laughs, and he takes the opportunity to steal a kiss and feel the way her laughter reverberates against his lips. 

“Who are you to judge a long-haired past, _Snow White_?” he murmurs, stealing another kiss before she can defend herself. 

“The perfect judge,” she counters. “I know what long hair should be like, and by all accounts, yours wasn't.”

“Hey now,” he protests. “What happened to 'for better or worse'?”

“We got married in the Enchanted Forest and never made those vows,” she says, and pouts at her as adorably as he can. “Don't give me that look.”

He gives her that look even harder, and she sighs before cradling his head in her hands. “That's not fair.”

“Neither was taking digs at a poor shepherd's hair,” he points out, and this time, she pouts at him. So he kisses her, and soon her lips are curved into a smile against his instead. They kiss, and kiss, and he finds himself entertaining the idea of a long-haired shepherd running across a wild-haired princess, and several rounds of teasing followed by several rounds of kissing up against a barn. 

She sighs happily as she pulls away slightly, looking at him in that way that always leaves him breathless. 

“I love you,” she says, and he savors the sound of that, as he always does. “For better or worse hair, I promise.”


	100. Chapter 100

kaijacharming prompted: _Can you write a fic where Snow has to teach Charming how to dance ballroom style? Please? Merry Christmas!_

II

Most of the time, Snow doesn’t even think of her husband as a shepherd. He is so very much everything a prince should be – assertive, honorable, caring, a leader – that she sometimes forgets he wasn’t born in that role.

So with their first ball being arranged, she doesn’t even think about it all being new to Charming. She doesn’t think that there might be things he doesn’t know.

At least until she finds her husband in an empty ballroom, counting steps and twirling around. He looks so focused on his task he doesn’t even notice her, and for a few moments, she only watches.

He is agile, so even if he doesn’t know all the steps, watching him is a pleasure. She finds herself smiling, almost aching with love for him. He’s teaching himself to dance. Of course he wouldn’t know all the ballroom dances, but rather than saying anything, here he is.

He miscounts a step and falters, and that’s when he notices her. “Snow.”

“Charming,” she says, gliding up to him. His eyes are warm and bright as he looks at her, his gaze as always loving enough to make her breath catch.

“I was just…” he says, and she puts a finger against his lips.

“I know what you were just,” she says, and he looks sheepish. Gently, she leans forward and kisses him. He seems taken aback for a moment, then he enthusiastically kisses her back. After a while, she pulls back, resting her forehead against his. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says, lifting a hand to her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she says simply. “I love you, Charming. All that you are.”

“Even the part of me that don’t know all the ballroom dances?” he asks, and she gives him a soft, lingering kiss.

“Especially that part,” she murmurs against his lips. “Because that means I get to teach you.”

He smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I would love that.”

Stepping away, he gives her a courtly bow, worthy of a prince, and then the cheeky smile that is simply Charming. He holds out his hand, and she takes it, slipping into his arms. It feels like a perfect fit, she notices, her smaller frame against his length.

“I hope I don’t step on your toes too often,” he says, and she smiles up at him

“You can kiss it better,” she promises, and he laughs. Gently, he begins twirling her around the room, humming as he does. They dance, she softly correcting him whenever needed, and gently leading him a few times when he falters. Again, and again, they repeat the steps until he is flawless.

Eventually, they pause in the middle of the room, slightly breathless. He is looking at her through slightly lowered eyelids, and his hand feels warm on her waist.

“Did I step on any toes?” he murmurs.

“No,” she says, and he looks almost disappointed. So she kisses him instead, and feels his hands move to press her more firmly against him.

“Is this part of ballroom dancing as well?” he teases, brushing feather-light kisses against her lips.

“No,” she murmurs, closing her eyes briefly at his touches. “But it is part of our dance.”

“Ah,” he breathes, lifting her up. “I think I know those steps.”

(Does he ever, she thinks, and then doesn’t think much for a long, long time.)


	101. Chapter 101

Prompt: _drunk charming being flirty with snow_

II

“Look at you.”

Snow turns, seeing her husband leaning against the doorframe with a slightly goofy smile on his face. He is clearly admiring her, his gaze wandering her body in a way that makes her skin tingle. 

He is also clearly at least slightly drunk. To be expected, he was being dragged along by Grumpy for a dwarf's night out. 

“Charming, I'm in my nightgown,” she points out.

“Exactly,” he says, smiling. “Look at you.”

She tries to look stern, but knows she is failing. “You were in a hurry to get this off me last night, as I recall.”

“Mm,” he acknowledges. “You're stunning whatever clothes you wear, but when you wear nothing...”

He smiles in that way he does, and she can feel the familiar flutter in her stomach at it. Her Charming, being ever so charming and flirty. Well. Two can play that game.

“Like this, you mean?” she asks, lifting her hands and pulling the nightgown down, then stepping out of it.

His lips part, and he takes her in with a soft sigh. She stands still, not even feeling cold with the heat of his gaze on her skin.

“Snow,” he murmurs. “You're... You're so beautiful.”

“You're biased,” she points out. “You married me.”

“Twice,” he says, stepping into the room. He keeps his gaze on her as he walks forward, intent in a way that makes her swallow softly. “Twice as biased and twice as married.”

“Aren't you twice as charming tonight?” she teases, tilting her head up as he steps up to her and cradles her head in his hands. 

“Does that get me twice the Snow?” he says, his voice husky. Then he is kissing her greedily and she is clinging to his shoulders as he moves them towards the bed. 

Might get him even more, she decides.


	102. Chapter 102

Prompt: _could you write something about Snow and actual snow? Thx_

II

It takes Snow a few moments to realize why she's suddenly awake. There is no obvious reason why. The house is quiet and dark, Neal is still asleep, and she has her husbands arms around her. 

Then she tilts her head towards the window and realizes it's snowing outside. Heavily.

It's always woken her up, heavy snowfall at night. It's as if she's unable to sleep through it. She isn't quite sure why. Her mother used to joke it was due to her name being Snow and being born during a harsh winter, and they used to go outside and watch it snow together. All the way through the night if needed, her mother and her, until the snow would stop falling. 

And then her mother died and she was left watching it on her own for a long, long time, always just wanting it to end as soon as possible. 

Softly, she slips out of her husband's arms, and he makes a noise of protest before opening his eyes and blinking sleepily up at her. 

“Snow?” he asks, sounding worried.

She smiles softly at him. “Nothing's wrong.”

He looks at her for a moment longer, then follows her out of bed. Gently, he takes her hand. “Snow?”

She is as bad as ever at keeping things from him, it seems, and feels almost comforted by it.

“Look,” she simply says, and he follows her gaze outside. 

“Oh,” he says, slipping his arms around her. “It's snowing.”

“Yeah,” she says, her voice thick. He knows what it means, of course. He's known since the first winter they shared together, and she told him about how she was born, how she could never sleep through heavy snowfall, how her mother would stay up with her. 

He holds her for several minutes, kissing the top of her head while she watches the snowflakes against the window. She imagines the whole of Storybrooke will be covered tomorrow, dressed in winter white.

Neal's cries pierces the silence, and Charming lets her go immediately, following her over to the crib. Their son is kicking into the air, but quiets slightly when she picks him up.

He's not hungry, she determines, nor does he need a diaper change. He is simply restless, though she isn't quite sure why. 

“Maybe he shares his mother's sense of snow,” Charming jokes softly, as Neal curls his hand around his finger. “Let's wrap him warmly and go outside.”

“Now?” she asks, and he smiles at her, leaning down to press a soft kiss against her lips. 

“Now,” he murmurs. “We both know you won't sleep tonight, and I am not sleeping without you. Since it seems like our son shares my view, let's all go outside and watch the snowfall.”

She smiles at him, feeling her heart swell. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says, giving her another quick peck before stepping away. She watches him get dressed quickly, then tucks Neal into his arms while getting dressed herself. They're in the process of dressing Neal warmly when they become aware of noises in the kitchen. 

It's Emma, looking grumpy and tired, and raising an eyebrow at the sight of them. “You two going on some sort of midnight adventure or something?”

“Something like that,” Charming says good-naturedly. He smiles fondly at her. “Can't sleep?”

“No,” Emma admits. She seems to debate whether or not to divulge more for a few moments, before practically blurting it out. “I can't sleep when it snows too much. Weird, huh?”

Oh, Snow thinks, her heart suddenly aching with a strange sort of joy. 

“Not that weird,” Charming says, squeezing Snow's hand softly. “Your mother can't either.”

Emma looks at Snow, green eyes like a mirror. “Really?”

“Really,” Snow confirms, and Emma looks both surprised and touched. 

“Seems like your brother shares the same habit as well,” Charming goes on, cooing gently at Neal. “I guess that makes it a family trait.”

Emma nods slowly, then swallows lightly. “So you guys are going outside?”

“Yeah,” Snow says, taking Emma's hand impulsively. “Would you like to come with us? We can team up against your father in the inevitable snowball fight.”

“Hey!” Charming protests, pouting. “That's unfair.”

“Call it getting even for last time,” she counters, and Charming has the decency to look sheepish. He should, given that he pretended to surrender only to trap her underneath him in a pile of snow. She might have eventually forgiven him for that, but it had taken several dozen kisses. 

“I don't think I want to know,” Emma says, but she is smiling. “Could I wake up Henry and bring him too? I'm sure he'd love it.”

“Of course,” Snow says warmly, and Emma hugs her briefly before running upstairs to get Henry. Snow watches her go, feeling Charming's free arm slip around her.

“Look at that,” he murmurs into her ear, pressing a kiss against it as well. She leans back against him as much as she can, given he's still cradling Neal as well. “Like mother, like son and daughter.”

She swallows. So many years, she used to stay awake alone, missing her mother as it snowed around her. Then she found Charming, her beloved Charming who would stay awake with her every time.

Now, now she has a whole family going outside with her; and somehow, she almost wishes the snow will never stop falling if it gets her this.


	103. Chapter 103

Prompt: _Can you write Emma and David after Emma experiences someone calling her "Your Royal Highness" for the first time?_

II

Emma has grown used to quite a few nicknames in her life. Even the mean ones, she learned to grin and bear, and never let others show just how much they hurt. That would just make them more frequent. 

Then there were the ones she learned to love. Mom, making her heart leap every time she heard it. Sheriff, for the home it got her. Even savior, she's come somewhat to peace with, because it makes her son and parents proud.

But 'Her Royal Highness', that's a new ones she has no idea how to deal with, especially having sprung it on her early morning at Granny's. 

Leroy is still staring at her, expectant. “Well, Your Royal Highness?”

“I'll look into it, Leroy,” she manages to say, trying to sound as testy as she normally would at this time in the morning. “I'm sure your pick-ax will turn up soon enough.”

“It better,” Leroy grumbles, and then he is heading out the door and Emma tries to compose herself, only to finally notice who has been watching the whole exchange from a booth in the corner.

Her father.

She debates fleeing or not, but as it frequently seems to do these days, staying put wins out. So she sighs, and walks over, sliding into the booth across from him.

He is looking at her gently, studying her reaction, and after a few moments, he lifts one of his hands to grasp hers.

“I gather you heard that,” she mutters. 

“Yeah,” he says softly. “It took me by surprise the first few times as well, being addressed as royalty.”

“Right,” she says. Sometimes she forgets that her father was born a shepherd, and that Prince Charming was a title and name he earned. 

“Didn't feel like it was me,” he goes on, and she nods at that. Emma Swan, her royal highness? It doesn't feel like her at all. 

“You seem comfortable with it now,” she says after a moment, and he shrugs.

He smiles, looking distant as if remembering something. “Titles are just titles. You choose for yourself how you wish to deal with them. Reject them, embody them, redefine them... It's up to you.”

“Some titles come with a lot of expectations,” she says, thinking of how much weight just one word can carry. Savior. 

David smiles almost sadly, as if he knows. “Yeah. You are royalty to this town, Emma. You're our daughter. But if you like, I can talk to the dwarfs and ask them not to call you that.”

She swallows. “No, no... It's... It's fine, it's just weird.”

“Weirder than being the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming?” he asks dryly, and she laughs at that. 

“Touche,” she says. “Where is mom, anyway?”

“Giving Neal an emergency diaper change,” he says, giving her a smile. “As you can see, royal life is full of genteel duties.”

She laughs again. He is making light of it to make her more at ease with it all, she knows, and kind of loves him for it. 

“You could join us for breakfast,” he goes on, squeezing her hand. 

“And watch you two flirt and kiss over hot chocolate in-between cooing at my baby brother?”

“Something like that.”

“I'd love to,” she says sincerely, and he smiles again. “Dad? How did you become comfortable with your title?”

“I realized it tied me to your mother,” he says gently. “She was a princess. She would have given up that title for me if I had wanted, but I never wanted her to be anything less than she was. Princess and bandit both.”

She nods slowly. “I guess... I guess I can get used to the royalty thing eventually. I've gotten used to weirder things.”

“You don't have to,” he assures her, squeezing her hand again. “Your mother and I won't love you any less.”

“I know,” she says, and she does. Oh, she knows. “But like you said, I'm your daughter. Nothing less.”

“Nothing less,” he agrees, lifting her hand to press a kiss against it. “Your royal highness.”

“Don't push it, dad.”

“How about 'Princess'?”

She smiles at him, her gaze moving to where her mother is standing with her baby brother in her arms, clearly having heard at least part of the conversation from the tears in her eyes. 

“Okay,” Emma says, realizing this is one nickname she might learn to treasure, because it makes her someone's daughter, and that's all she ever wanted. “I can live with that.”


	104. Chapter 104

Prompt: _How about a "naughty" shower fic. Thanks._

II

There are certain advantages to living in Storybrooke rather than the Enchanted Forest, Snow has to admit. Electricity. Groceries. Baby strollers. And of course, indoor plumbing and glorious, glorious hot showers.

Sighing, she steps under the flow of hot water. It's gloriously warm against her aching body, a result of archery and running . Another day, another adventure, it often seems like in this town. 

She closes her eyes, not feeling up for the effort of reaching for the soap. Instead, she tilts her head backwards and lets the water wash across her face as well. Her body seems to be tingling from the heat of the water, but she still wishes she could get it warmer still.

“Hey,” she hears her husband's soft voice, and moments later, his hands are on her waist and his body is pressing against hers. She didn't even hear him come in, or hear him undress, but she is not complaining that he did either. 

She smiles, keeping her eyes closed. “Hey.”

He kisses her neck, licking away a few drops of water while at it in a way that makes her toes curl. “Neal's asleep. I tucked him in.”

“Mmm,” she murmurs lazily, enjoying the way his fingers are pressing into her skin. “And you decided you were in a rush to have a shower?”

“Not to have a shower,” he says, his hands dipping lower. “In a rush to have my wife.”

She moans at the light pressure of his fingers, and she can feel him smile against her skin. Eagerly, she turns her head and catches her lips with her own, kissing him hungrily while his fingers continue to stroke her. 

She arches back against him, hearing him moan softly into her mouth. He is already quite hard against her backside, but she isn't entirely surprised. He's always seemed to find her and adventures quite a turn-on, and she has to admit that the feeling is rather mutual. 

So is the rush. 

“Charming,” she groans impatiently, breaking the kiss.

“Snow,” he murmurs huskily. She turns in his arms, getting a brief moment to enjoy just how good her husband looks sprayed with water before his hands are hard on her buttocks and he's lifting her up. 

Gently, he leans her slightly against the wall for support, bracing with one hand. She kisses him as he lowers her slowly on him, making increasingly satisfied sighs the deeper he gets. She loves those noises, loves how they reverberate against her lips just as much as she loves being the cause of them. 

He loves her noises too, she knows, groaning at the friction as he pulls slightly out, then thrusts. He seems to enjoy that a great deal, repeating the action and getting several more groans from her as a reward. 

After that, she isn't quite sure which noises are his and which are hers, all of them seeming to join like their bodies do, as they kiss and kiss and alternate between him thrusting and she rocking on him. There is just him, him and the water, sweeping her away, her orgasm feeling like a tide that drowns her and leaves her breathless.

Charming comes seconds after her, she realizes, feeling him managing to lower them unsteadily to the floor. They sit there for a few moments, catching their breaths. She rests her head on his shoulder, quite thankful the hot water hasn't run out yet.

“I love showers,” she murmurs breathlessly.

“Mmm,” he agrees, pressing a kiss against her blazing cheek. “I love showers too, but I miss bathtubs.”

“Why?” she asks, lifting her head to look at him. He's looking quite mischievous still, she notices. Good. 

“Showers are good for a rush,” he says, and she bites her lip. Oh yes. It certainly is. “But bathtubs allow more... Time to play.”

He just had her, and is already wanting more, she thinks, feeling the heat of his gaze on her skin. 

Good. 

“There are combined baths and showers, you know,” she murmurs, and he growls, then kisses her greedily on the shower floor, not even caring that the water is turning cold.

(They get their combined bathtub and shower a few weeks later. Of course.)


	105. Chapter 105

Prompt : _emma learns that parents slept together before marriage and it takes all her innocent vision of fairy tales._

II

Emma has always known her parents are… Well, physical. Boy, does she ever know. They happily make out in the street, they seem to hold hands as easily as they breathe, they have a myriad of tiny caresses – so much touching that the absence of it tends to make Emma think something’s wrong. 

So yes, she knows her parents are physical. She just never considered what else that fact about her parents might have led to.

Maybe that’s why she’s currently gaping at her parents, having walked in on Ruby telling said parents off for trying to sneak out of the party Granny’s for some ‘rest’ just like they used to do all the time long before they were married.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret says breathlessly, blushing and looking very much like a teenager caught out. 

“Emma,” Ruby repeats, looking guilty. “I didn’t see you there. Um. When I said ‘all the time’ I only meant once or twice. A week.”

“Making it worse,” Emma says tonelessly, trying to look anywhere but where David’s hands currently are on Mary Margaret. 

David is looking quite, quite guilty, Emma notices, but also just slightly amused, no matter how well he tries to hide it. Damn her parents and their true love. (Well, expect that she misses it whenever they have one of their rare fights or a curse strikes, but that’s beside the point.)

“You’re meant to be Snow White and Prince Charming,” Emma says, giving them a hard stare. “You’re fairytales! You’re… innocent fairytales! You’re Disney!”

“Emma,” David says gently. “We might be stories in this world, but in our world, we were just living our lives. And we loved each other then and love each other now.”

Mary Margaret nods, taking his hand in hers. “I’m sorry you overheard that, Emma, but I will never be sorry for loving your father.”

“I’m not sorry you two love each other,” Emma mumbles. She isn’t. She really, really isn’t. “I’m… I like it.”

Mary Margaret and David both smile at her as if she’s just given her a gift.

“I just don’t need certain visuals,” Emma goes on, and they both nod solemnly.

“Try having wolf hearing and living in their castle,” Ruby says dryly.

Emma closes her eyes and counts to five. “I didn’t hear that, and you’re buying me several drinks for ruining my childhood vision of fairytales.”

“You got it,” Ruby says. “But you know, none of the stories you think of as fairytales are innocent. Let me tell you about my grandmother and the wolf…”

She’s going to need more than a few drinks, Emma thinks numbly. She’s going to need to get roaring drunk for weeks to get through this. 

(A few hours later, happily into the alcohol and listening to Belle’s version of how the Beauty and the Beast really went, Emma notices that her parents are making out in the corner – and finds herself vaguely smiling at it.

Maybe she can learn to live with the non-Disney version of Snow White and Prince Charming.)


	106. Chapter 106

Prompt: _Mistletoe!_

II

Carefully, Snow tip-toes through the dark. She has to be stealthy, has to be agile, or…

Or that, she thinks, as strong hands pin her against the beam. Breathlessly, she glances up at the triumphant smile of her husband.

“I found you,” he says. 

He always finds her. She knows that. After all, he’s proved it often enough, finding her despite curses and different realms and fake memories. He finds her. Always.

It’s still fun making him work for it.

“Took you long enough,” she teases. “How long have you been chasing me with that mistletoe now? Three minutes?”

Charming pouts, the aforementioned mistletoe still tucked into his shirt. “You snuck back in. That’s cheating. We were supposed to stay outside.”

“Yet you found me,” she points out.

“I know you,” he says huskily, possessively. “My bandit.”

Her toes curl as he leans down, his lips so close to hers she can feel his breath. 

“Charming,” she murmurs. 

“As you named me,” he says softly, and she rises to crash her lips against his. He moans happily, parting his lips and letting her deepen the kiss. They’re breathless soon enough, and she’s quite thankful for the hard wood at her back helping to keep her upright. 

“How long do you think we have before Emma and Henry misses us?” she asks breathlessly, sighing as his fingers brush her ear. 

“They were making a snowman for Neal. At least five more minutes,” he reasons, groaning as she kisses the underside of his jaw. . 

Not nearly enough time, but time enough to have some fun, she figures.

Ten minutes later, Snow and Charming join their children and grandchild outside to finish the snowman. If Emma or Neal notices the flushed cheeks and mussed hair, they don’t comment on it.

In the kitchen, a sprig of mistletoe lies forgotten on the floor, but that’s all right. It was after all just the excuse – and they don’t really need it.


	107. Chapter 107

Prompt: _Snowing in a heated sword practice in Storybrooke. Maybe Emma walks in?_

II

In a way, Emma feels like she does know her parents now. She's gotten used to calling them mom and dad, even thinking of them as her parents. She's become strangely comfortable with the fact that their love is True Love, living in the proof of it (broken curses, shared heart, frequent true love kisses and make-out) and being the product of it. She's even sort of come to terms with knowing they are also Snow White and Prince Charming. 

It is still occasionally odd to see just how Snow and Charming they can be, like walking in on a sword-fight in the backyard. With sheathed swords, but still actual swords.

Her mother usually favors the bow, but is currently wielding a sword as if she was born to do it. Her father is using his regular broadsword, and they are circling each other and making calculating jabs in a way that seems like a dance. 

Her parents. This is her parents too, the fighters. Oh, she has seen them fight before, her mother taking on ogres in the Enchanted Forest, both of them fighting in Neverland, her father fighting to get her baby brother back from the Wicked Witch, and both of them fighting desperately to save her from the darkness. But those times she was fighting herself, and was focused on the fight, not them. 

So she says nothing, remaining completely still in the doorway and just... Watching. 

They're good, she can quickly tell. Her father is strong, blocking blows more often than dodging, while her mother is nimble and relying more on speed. They're both breathing in a way that tells Emma they've been doing this for a while. 

It seems they didn't just get a new house with a backyard for Neal's sake, but their own too. (It is a nice house though, Emma will give them that. She helped them find it, and has her own permanent room here too, that she uses fairly frequently.)

Her father grunts as he meets a sideways thrust, and her mother grins.

“Ready to surrender, Charming?” she teases. 

“Never,” he swears, making a swing that her mother jumps away from. She raises a challenging eyebrow at him, and he grins in a way that makes Emma shift her feet. Oh. Are they...

They are, she realizes, as they exchange heated glances while dodging and blocking each other's swings. This is just sword practice, this is... Flirting. 

Only her parents, she thinks, as her father makes a quick move she didn't see coming. Neither did her mother, not moving fast enough and finding herself suddenly pinned down.

“Got you,” he says, sounding satisfied. 

Her mother sighs, but manages to sound rather satisfied too. “You do, Charming.”

“Ready to surrender?” he jokes, and her mother bites her lip.

“Yes,” she manages to get out, and then he kisses her with just as much energy as they were just fighting with, and Emma hurriedly turns around and heads inside. Right. Her parents are in _that_ mood. Right. She will just come back later. Much later. 

She knows her parents, after all.


	108. Chapter 108

Anon prompted: _Mary Margaret has a nightmare about loosing Emma to the darkness. Snowing comfort fluff?_

II

_“Please,” Snow says, hearing her own voice break. “Please, he's your father.”_

_“I don't care anymore,” Emma says brightly, almost happily. Her eyes are dark, pool of blackness that seem almost dead. This isn't Emma Swan anymore. This isn't their daughter. The darkness has claimed her and all that remains is the Dark One._

_“Please,” Snow says again, even knowing it is hopeless. “Please.”_

_Emma smiles, tilting her head to regard the bright heart in her hands before squeezing light. Charming's heart, the half Snow gave him._

_“I love you, Snow,” Charming gasps, and Snow clings to his hand as he staggers in pain. “I... I love you, Emma.”_

_“I don't care anymore,” Emma says, and the heart turns to diamond dust in her hand._

II

“Charming!” Snow gasps, bolting upwards. For a moment she can barely breathe, her heart pounding in her chest. Charming, Charming, _Charming_...

“Snow?” Charming asks, sounding worried, and she turns to see her husband sitting up and blinking sleepily at her. They're in bed, and it's still dark outside. Just a nightmare then. It wasn't real.

She practically flings herself into Charming's arms, clinging to him. He makes a slightly started noise, then begins rubbing her back gently, and pressing kisses into her hair. 

“What's wrong?” he murmurs softly. 

She swallows, trying to steady her breathing. He is here. She hasn't lost him, or lost her daughter – yet. 

“She crushed your heart,” she whispers, pressing her head against his shoulder, needing to feel close to him.

“Who?” he asks gently.

“Emma,” she replies, hearing the pain in her own voice plainly. “I... I was losing you both. You to death and she to darkness.”

“Shh,” he says, kissing her temple and shifting her so that she is sitting on his lap. “It was a dream, Snow. That's all. Emma is... fighting the darkness, and we will find a way to save her. We won't lost her again, and you won't lose me. Have faith.”

“I will,” she agrees, managing a faltering smile. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says, smiling softly at her. Gently, he kisses her, caressing her cheek as he does. “And we love our daughter. She knows that.”

They do, Snow thinks, clinging to her husband, drawing comfort from his presence. They love Emma, and Emma knows that. 

Surely she will always care about that?

“I'm afraid,” she admits, and she feels him take her hand and kiss it.

“I know,” he says. “I am too. But I do have faith, Snow. I believe in our daughter. I believe in you. I believe in us. We will find a way to get the darkness out of our daughter.”

She meets his gaze. His blue eyes are bright even in the darkness, and she sees the absolute faith in his eyes. There is fear there too, but he is fighting it, she knows. 

She needs to as well. Their daughter is fighting the darkness, and they need to help her by fighting their fear. They need to have hope. 

She's not going to lose her husband or her daughter. She's not. 

She has faith.


	109. Chapter 109

Anon prompted: _the first evening after Snow and Charming got engaged, they're finally together, and they begin their true relationship. Talking, hand holding, cuddles, etc._

II

They've wanted to be together for so long, fought so hard to find each other again and have had only brief moments together before being separated again that finally, finally being together is almost... strange. 

It's also wonderful.

It's been hours since Charming woke her from the sleeping curse, and he's still here. She hasn't lost him. She doesn't have to find him again. He's here, wonderfully here, near and real and hers. 

The dwarfs have been celebrating and have fallen asleep, so it's just him and her, sitting together by the campsite. They started the evening holding hands, exchanging kisses every now and then, but they've slowly moved closer and closer until she's tucked into his side, resting her head against his chest. He's linked one hand in hers, drawing close circles with his thumb, his other hand slowly caressing her arm.

She feels completely and utterly at home. It's a strange feeling after so long on the run, but it is also wonderful. She could become used to this. She will become used to this, because they are going to be married and spend the rest of their lives together. This is a beginning.

They've started to get to know each other too. They've already spent hours whispering, him about his life and how he ended up filling the role of his twin, she about her life and how she ended up being a bandit. She cried when she told him about Daniel, with him kissing away her tears and telling her that it wasn't her fault. He look so guilty it cut into her heart while telling her about James and being born a shepherd, and she kissed him firmly and told him she already suspected and loved him anyway and still preferred Charming. 

Charming shifts her even closer, pressing a kiss against her hair. “Are you tired?”

She is, but she doesn't want to admit it, reluctant to end this moment. She hasn't felt at home for so long. She doesn't want it to end.

Charming seems to pick up on her reluctance, pulling away to look at her. 

“You're tired,” he says firmly, cupping her cheek in his palm. “You look exhausted. You need to sleep, my darling.”

“Mmm,” she replies softly, as close to an admittance as she can manage. “But please don't go.”

He chuckles softly. “Wouldn't dream of it.”

“Good,” she says, tilting her head up. He kisses her softly, caressing her lips with his own. “Mmm. Good.”

“Just good?” he teases, kissing her with more insistence. She can only moan in response, feeling his lips curve into a smile at that. No, not just good. Never just good. Kissing Charming is quite, quite wonderful. 

He seems satisfied with her non-verbal responses too, the way she puts her arm around his neck to press him even closer, and parts her lips against his. It's a thorough, slow kiss, an exploration.

The first of many, she knows. They have so much to discover about each other and about being together. 

“I love you,” he murmurs breathlessly. “Snow.”

“Charming,” she whispers back, surprised at how hoarse her own voice sounds. She's never heard herself quite like that before, but she has never wanted anyone like she wants Charming before. “I... I love you too.”

He pulls back, smiling at her. Gently, he lifts her hand where she wears his ring and presses a kiss against it. “My Snow.”

Yes, she thinks, pressing her forehead against his. She is his true love, his fiancee now, and his wife to be. 

“Don't go,” she says again. 

“I won't,” he promises. Gently, he shifts them so that they're both lying down, she half-way on top of him with his arms and cape around her. “Sleep, Snow.”

She falls asleep in his arms like that, still feeling wonderfully at home.


	110. Chapter 110

Hayley prompted: _Snow and Charming dancing in the kitchen. Emma and Henry walk in. Its adorable_

II

When it comes to the kitchen, Emma has grown used to walking in on all sorts of things. 

There was the morning she walked in on her parents personally trying to make her the perfect birthday cake and messing up the frosting, and she loved it even more for that. 

There was the evening where they were holding each other tightly, her mother crying into her father's shoulder and grief etched into both their faces. She could feel herself tear up watching them, and without a word, they pulled her into their embrace too. 

There was the day she walked in to see her baby brother crawl between them, her mother glowing between tears and her father grinning stupidly. 

There was the night where she snuck downstairs to get a snack, and discovered her father making a meal of her mother's neck and crowding her against the fridge while pulling her dress down; she hurried upstairs before they could see her with flaming cheeks. 

There was the morning she found Hook there making pleasant small-talk with her parents and winking at her while being patched up by a very grumpy Mary Margaret; she only discovers later that her mother actually saved her pirate's life and knew it was for her sake.

There was the day she found her father comforting a fussy Neal with sheep stories, and she knew that if not for the Dark Curse, that would have been her too, comforted as a baby in her father's – and mother's arms. 

There was the afternoon she came home with lunch and found an arrow embedded in one of the wooden beam and her very guilty-looking mother and very, very enthusiastic toddler of a brother clapping and exclaiming “Mama! Bowie!” over and over. 

There was the morning she walked downstairs to find her parents flustered and happy, and both completely drenched, and she didn't even ask, just banished them to the bathroom while she made everyone breakfast. (Or rather, made coffee and put our cereals.)

And now there is this. Her parents, dancing in the kitchen, grinning and gazing at each other while slowly turning around. There is song on the radio, yes, but they seem to be dancing to their own rhythm rather than that. Her brother must be having his afternoon nap, as he is nowhere in sight.

“Emma! Henry!” her mother exclaims in delight. “We didn't expect you back already.”

“Clearly,” Emma mumbles, and Henry, of all people, gives her a stern look. “What?”

“Gramps and Grams are true love,” he says pointedly, as if that is some sort of explanation. 

“Gramps and Grams are,” David agrees, smiling down at Mary Margaret. “I truly, truly love her.”

Mary Margaret smiles so very softly at him, then kisses him, making Emma give Henry a pointed glare. Her son really, really shouldn't encourage them. Not like they need it, anyway.

Henry just smiles unrepentantly, then steps forward and does a small bow. “Grams?”

Mary Margaret seems utterly delighted. “I'd love to, Henry.”

Emma watches her son and her mother step together, Mary Margaret telling him about some sort of Enchanted Forest dance and trying to teach him the step. Henry seems to catch on pretty fast, and the sight of her son, now so tall, dancing as a grown man would is...

“They grow up fast, don't they?” her father says softly, and Emma turns to see him look at her with a faint smile but sadness in his eyes. Oh. 

“Yeah,” Emma agrees. 

Her father exhales, then holds out a dance. “Dance with me?”

His face is so hopeful she can't make herself say no, no matter how ridiculous she's sure she'll look. So she takes his hand, feeling him put a hand at her back and leading her into a mirror of the dance Mary Margaret is teaching Henry. Her father actually manages to lead her so well Emma feels as if she's floating, and it is actually kind... nice. 

“Your mother taught me to dance this one,” David says softly. “It was one of the most common ball dances, but growing up a shepherd, I had never learned it. I felt like an idiot and completely out of place, but your mother... She made me feel graceful.”

It's hard to imagine her father feeling out of place, Emma has to admit. He seems like such a natural prince, so at home with it. But it is kinda comforting to hear as well, given how out of place Emma herself sometimes feels.

She suspects that was the point of him telling her, and she smiles at him. 

They dance on for a few moments, Emma feeling less and less self-conscious, even laughing when her father gives her a twirl that she is certain is not in the original dance. 

“You're a natural, Henry,” Mary Margaret praises him, and Emma turns to see her son grin proudly, then bow before her.

“Mom?”

“You're on, kid,” Emma says when she finds her voice. Her father lets her go, and she steps into Henry's arms, letting him lead her. He's learned well in just a few minutes, she realizes, and glances over to see her parents holding each other and watching with teary eyes. They look as if they're watching something incredibly beautiful to them, and Emma has to swallow a lump in her throat.

“No watching, only dancing,” she says sternly, and they both chuckle before her father twirls her mother around, and they all dance while the radio plays entirely the wrong song, and it's still kinda right. (Though her father could dip and kiss her mother a little less, thank you.)

This is her family. This is their kitchen, and she will always walk in on family moments here, she knows.

She kinda loves that.


	111. Chapter 111

Prompt: _No sleeping curse. Snow returns to Charming after her night out with Emma and Regina._

II

Being woken up by his wife kissing him is not really that strange – in fact, it's fairly normal – but Charming still has to admit this is rather unusual. Because Snow, Snow is wearing a horned Viking helmet and grinning cheekily at him. She has straddled him, running her hands up and down his chest, and she looks quite, quite pleased with herself. 

“Snow,” he says, taking in the flush in her cheeks and the look in her eyes. “Hi.”

“Hi Chaaaaarming,” she sing-songs, kissing him again. 

“You're drunk,” he observes, feeling amused. 

“Princesses do not get drunk,” she counters, stabbing a finger against his chest.

“Bandits do,” he says, his eyes twinkling. 

She pouts. “Not fair.”

“What isn't, my darling bandit?” he asks softly, drawing his hand across her back lovingly.

“Bandit and princess,” she murmurs, fighting not to slur the words. “Two.”

He chuckles. “Need I remind you that I am also two? A shepherd and your Prince Charming?”

“No,” she says, and he raises an eyebrow. “You, always Prince Charming. Always, even when a shepherd.”

Her words are wonderfully touching in ways he can't put to words, so he simply presses a kiss against her wrist that is loving yet reverent at the same time.

“Always Charming,” she repeats, and he lifts his head to kiss her, his lips caressing hers with infinite love and tenderness. 

“Always Snow,” he says against her lips, and she sighs happily. “As a bandit or as a princess – or as a Viking.”

She giggles. “Won a bet.”

“I see,” he says, wondering just want kind of bet his wife made to result in that prize. “You went out with Emma and Regina and returned with a Viking helmet. I really shouldn't be surprised. I knew what I was getting myself into when I married you.”

She nods sagely. “You married me.”

“I did,” he agrees. “I married you, my darling princess bandit Viking, who is a little bit drunk.”

“Little bit drunk,” she admits, leaning down. “Very horny.”

In more than one way, he discovers.


	112. Chapter 112

Prompt: _how about Emma telling Snow and/or Charming that she’s pregnant_

II

"Mom, I'm pregnant."

It's odd, Emma reflects, how something she's spent the whole day wondering how to broach the subject of, ends up just blurted out without any preamble.

Her mother, cup of hot chocolate with cinnamon halfway raised to her lips, pauses and blinks. Then her face lights up with such pure joy it makes Emma's heart skip a beat.

"Emma!" she exclaims, hurried putting the cup down and getting up to pull Emma into a crushing embrace. "I'm so happy for you!"

Emma lets herself be held for a moment, resting her head against Snow's shoulder and exhaling slowly. Saying it out loud has made it so much more real. Pregnant. Her.

Her mother pulls back, cupping Emma's face in her hands and then frowning slightly.

"Aren't you happy about this, Emma?" she asks tenderly, and Emma swallows.

"I am. I am. I'm just also..." she bites her lip, trying to find the right words. "I don't know."

"Afraid?" Snow suggests softly, and Emma can only nod. "Oh, honey."

"I gave Henry up," Emma says slowly. "I didn't raise him. I've been trying to learn how to be his mother ever since he came into my life. What if I mess it up with this one?"

"You won't," her mother says, smiling at her with so much confidence Emma feels her throat constrict. "But I understand how you feel, Emma. I... I was afraid of the same when I was pregnant with Neal. I worried I would fail him. I certainly felt like I had failed you."

"Mom!" Emma protests. "You didn't fail me. You didn't. I don't blame you for the choice you had to make."

Her mother smiles a touch sadly. "Henry doesn't blame you for the choice you made, Emma. That doesn't stop you from sometimes feeling guilty, does it?"

"No," Emma admits, thinking of her son, who is no longer a child but whom she still sometimes imagines as the baby she gave up. "You've been a wonderful mother to Neal, mom."

"And you'll be a wonderful mother to this child," her mother says confidently. Gently, she leans forward and kisses Emma's forehead, and Emma has to blink away a few tears. "I'm so happy for you, Emma. I know your father will be too – after he gets over the urge to murder your husband."

"He knows I'm married, right?" Emma says, and Snow chuckles.

"Of course your father knows you're married, honey," her mother says, a twinkle in her eyes. "But that doesn't mean he likes to dwell on everything a marriage tends to involve. Much like I suspect you don't like to dwell on what certain aspects of my marriage to your father."

Tacos, Emma thinks before she can stop herself. Not to mention that time she walked in on what seemed like very _spicy tacos_ and...

"Right," she says hurriedly, and her mother tries to hide a smile, but fails. "Mom..."

"Yes, honey?"

"I want to share this with you and dad. I want you to be in this kid's life, to be the wonderful grandparents you've been with Henry, I want... I want this kid to have the great family that I now have."

Snow's eyes are teary, Emma notices, but her smile is bright as she takes Emma's hand. "This child will have extremely doting and loving grandparents, I can promise you that."

Of that, Emma has no doubt.


	113. Chapter 113

II

Prompt: _enchanted forest, after sex, snow says something about how her hair must look like a mess and charming starts braiding it. she’s surprised and asks how he learned it and he says his mother taught him_

II

Slowly, Snow becomes aware of other sensations than the overwhelming pleasure that seemed to be everything for a moment: the warmth of the sun on her face, Charming’s fingers lightly brushing her skin, the faint sounds off birds somewhere in the distance, the softness of the mattress at her back.

It’s morning, and she’s just been woken up in the best way possible – roused and aroused by Charming. Not for the first time, either, and this definitely won’t be the last time.

She smiles faintly at the thought, and opens her eyes enough to see Charming smile down at her too, equal parts happy and pleased at himself. With reason to, she has to admit.

“I love you,” he says, dipping his head down to kiss her as if to illustrate his point.

“Mmm,” she agrees, closing her eyes as he continues to leisurely kiss her face. She feels wonderful. Utterly, utterly wonderful, loved and ravished in equal measure.

“Snow, you look…” he whispers against her skin, pausing for a moment while trying to find the right words. “Mesmerizing.”

“To you, maybe,” she says, lifting a hand to his chest and feeling the smooth skin against her palm. She can feel the lingering heat in her skin where he’s touched and kisses her very, very enthusiastically, and she imagines he’s left more than one visible mark. Not to mention how long he had her thrashing against her pillow, whimpering and moaning, and what that must have done to her hair. “My hair must be a mess.”

She can see him smirking as she opens her eyes to look sternly at him.

“I like this look on you,” he murmurs, voice slightly husky, and oh, that voice does things to her. “But I can fix that.”

“You?” she asks curiously.

“Me,” he confirms, giving her a soft kiss, then lifting himself out of bed. It allows her to watch the highly enjoyable show of her husband walking completely naked through their bedchamber, and then returning with a hairbrush.

Oh, she thinks, finding the idea of Charming brushing her hair oddly… attractive in a way she can’t quite put to words. She sits up, draping herself slightly in the nightgown Charming so happily tore off her earlier, and feels him sit down behind her.

She’s had maids to do her hair before, but this, this feels different, she finds. This, like everything else Charming does with her and to her, feels like making love to her. Each brushstroke feels like a gentle touch, his fingers occasionally brush through her hair lovingly and every now and then, he presses a kiss against her shoulder, the back of her neck, her back, her temple.

He isn’t just brushing her hair, however. She can feel his fingers weaving strands of her hair to and fro, making braids as if he’s done it before.

“How did you learn to do that?” she asks, her lips parting slightly as his finger trails the shell of her ear as he tucks a strand of her hair behind it. She can hear him hum happily, making her realize that he is enjoying doing this as much as she is enjoying it having done to her.

“My mother taught me how to braid,” he says, and she hears the faint grief in his voice that is always there when he talks about his mother these days. “It didn’t seem likely I would marry a woman who had her own maid to do such things for her, so my mother felt it would be a useful skill for me to have.”

Snow finds herself nodding slightly. She knows very well how badly Ruth wanted her son to find love, to make his own family, to be happy. Oh, she knows. She can only hope Ruth would be happy to know just how loved her son now is.

“I love you,” she says softly, and Charming pauses for a moment, kissing her temple.

“I still consider myself the luckiest man alive for being loved by you,” he says sincerely. “I know I am the happiest. And my mother was right. It is a useful skill for me to have even if my wife does have her own maids.”

“Why is that?” she asks, even if she already knows what’s coming.

“It allows me to ravish my princess every morning,” he whispers huskily, breath hot against her ear, “without her maids ever knowing.”

Oh, they’ll know, Snow thinks faintly, as Charming’s mouth settles on her neck and knows she’s about to get very, very ravished once again (and oh, how very very willingly so). They might not know from her hair, but they’ll know.

But since pretending they won’t know might involve Charming doing this again – well, why waste what a mother so helpfully taught her son to so skillfully do, after all?


	114. Chapter 114

II

Prompt: _David &MM meet up at a high school reunion_

II

Mary Margaret notices him the moment he walks into the room. It is as if the room has become electric and she feels jolted. David Nolan. David Nolan looking ten years older, and ten times as attractive – and he started at too damn attractive to begin with in high school.

“Wow,” she hears Ruby remark next to her. “Didn’t you use to have a crush on him in high school, Mary Margaret?”

“I…” Mary Margaret says, but she can’t make herself deny it. Exhaling, she takes her eyes off David Nolan, as hard as it is, and looks at Ruby. “I… Kinda.”

“Oh no,” Ruby says, looking at her face. “Far worse. You were in love with him, weren’t you?”

Mary Margaret nods miserably. “I loved him from the moment I accidentally knocked him out with a book on French grammar. I thought he was Whale going for a grope when he was really just trying to ask me where French class was.”

Ruby’s eyes twinkles. “You never did things the normal way, did you M?”

Mary Margaret sighs. She supposes she didn’t. From the moment she saw David Nolan, he felt like the one, and she didn’t want anyone else.

“High school is supposed to be a good time,” Ruby goes on. “Getting caught necking in broom closets, making out at prom, walking hand in hand through the school while everyone stares at you and wonders just how you snagged the school hunk.”

“There was only one guy I’d want to do any of that with, Rube,” Mary Margaret says. “I just wanted…”

“Mary Margaret,” says Ruby urgently, twirling her around.

“…. David Nolan,” Mary Margaret finishes, and the man in question smiles down at her, that smile that always makes her go weak in the knees.

“Mary Margaret,” he says breathlessly. “Hi.”

“Hi.” she says, swallowing. Ruby is making a vanishing act, she notices in the corner of her eye. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Since I left during my final year?” he says, and she remembers the sharp pain of that morning at school when she heard the Nolans had moved abruptly. “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

“Oh,” she says, and feels strangely breathless. He seems to be looking at her very intently, and his gaze feels hot as it lingers on her.

“My mother became ill,” he explains. “That’s why we left suddenly. My brother died in an accident soon after. After that, everything was… Was a bit of a mess for a while. You’d left for college by the time I came back here.”

“Oh,” she says again. “I’m sorry.” She remembers his twin, James, and how often David had felt like the black sheep of the family. As far as she was concerned, he was the star sheep of them all – his father George a right bastard and James half of one. Only his mother she remembers fondly, a kind woman who often invited her over for hot chocolate and watched her study with David with a fond smile. 

“I’m sorry too,” he says, taking her hand in his. “Would you like to dance, Mary Margaret?”

She nods, and follows him onto the dance floor. The songs are all from their graduation year, and she remembers so many months of trying to work up the courage to ask him to be her date at prom, only to have him gone before she could. Here she is, ten years later, finally dancing with David Nolan.

She seems to fit into his arms perfectly, even with their height difference, one of his hands at the small of her back and the other intertwined in hers. She watches their laced fingers intently, wondering how it manages to feel so right.

“I wanted to ask you to prom,” he murmurs, and she looks up at him in surprise. “I had spent months trying to work up the courage to. Did you know?”

Mutely, she shakes her head, her stomach seeming to do somersaults. He was trying to work up the courage to ask her? Does that mean…?

“I… You were always the only thing that felt right in my life those years,” David continues, looking down at their intertwined hands. “You were my best friend. I didn’t want to ruin that, but… I… I was kind of in love with you, Mary Margaret. Not kind of. Madly, actually. I know it’s been ten years and you probably didn’t feel the same, but I came here to see you and see if we could maybe reconnect and…”

“David,” she interrupts, and he lifts his gaze to her face. His eyes are so very blue, so filled with longing that it almost takes her breath away. “Of course I felt the same. Madly, actually.”

His lips part as he takes in her words, and then his lips are on hers and she’s being lifted up and kissed, oh so kissed. Gently at first, but soon his lips are insistent against hers, tugging and caressing all at once, leaving her own feeling flushed. She braids her fingers into his hair, moaning softly as the kiss deepens and she loses herself in damn well kissing David Nolan.

She isn’t sure how much time passes, but the song is well over by the time David puts her down on her feet again. Everyone around them is staring at them, she notices, and a few of the glances from the women (and a couple from the men) are downright jealous.

Well, she thinks. What was it Ruby said? High school was supposed to be a good time? Maybe it’s never too late to start.

Smiling, she takes David’s hand in hers and leads him off the dance floor, feeling the gazes at her back she does. Time to find a broom closet, she thinks, and do some necking.

To begin with.

II

(Two years later, when Mary Margaret Blanchard and David Nolan get married, they walk hand in hand down the aisle with everyone’s gazes on them, make out during their wedding dance, do far more than neck in the limo and most importantly, start a lifetime of great times together.

It’s never too late to start, after all.)


	115. Chapter 115

II

Prompt: _First Christmas after S6 & an emotional gift from Emma to her parents_

II

Snow is still regarding the Christmas tree skeptically when she feels Charming's arms slip around her and feels him kiss her temple. He must have finished putting Neal to sleep, she figures, and leans back into his embrace.

“It looks perfect, Snow,” he murmurs. “Stop fussing.”

“I just want this Christmas to be special,” she says, watching the star on top of the tree twinkle. “It's our first Christmas since our happy beginning started.”

“Exactly,” he says, his breath hot against her ear. “Our first. Not our last. We will have so many happy Christmases to come, Snow. All of us.”

She sighs. “I know. I'm...”

“You're Snow,” he breaks in, and she turns in his arms to gaze at him. “My beloved Snow, nothing just about you, wanting so much for everyone else to be happy, and I love you for it.”

He knows her too well, she thinks, and smiles faintly. “You do, huh?”

“I do,” he says, brushing his nose against hers. “Of course, I love you for a million other reasons too.”

“A million?” she says doubtfully. “You can't name a million reasons why you love me, Charming.”

“I can,” he says confidently. “Number one, how good you look in the light of a Christmas tree. Number two, how amazing it is to kiss you in the light of a Christmas tree...”

As if to underline that particular reason, he kisses her; soon lifting her up to let her deepen the kiss enthusiastically, and she rather has to agree, it is amazing to kiss like this.

“Kids in the house,” they hear behind them, and Snow breaks the kiss to see Emma pointedly not look at them. She hides a smile as Charming gently puts her down on her feet again. Emma might be the same age, but in so many ways she is just like any other daughter, not wanting to see physical proof of her parents' affection for each other.

“Emma,” Charming says. “I didn't know you were stopping by tonight. Is everything all right?”

“Yeah,” Emma says, smiling faintly. “Better than, actually. We got our tree ready for tomorrow. I just wanted to give you guys something tonight.”

She holds out a thin gift-wrapped package, and Snow accepts it, wondering just what their daughter has decided to get that. She knows from Ruby that Emma has apparently been working on something for a while now.

“I wanted to get you guys something special,” Emma says. “Now that everything has calmed down it seemed like the right time. Gold and Regina helped me with all the paperwork to get this. It wasn't easy, with the curse and everything.”

Paperwork, Snow thinks, and Charming peeks over her shoulder as she carefully unwraps to reveal an envelope. Gently, she opens that to see... a birth certificate?

“I wanted to make it official,” Emma says into the air. “That you guys are my parents.”

Snow feels herself tear up as she regards the document. Emma's birth certificate, listing David Nolan and Mary Margaret Blanchard as her birth parents. Oh. Oh, oh, oh.

“Emma,” Charming says, sounding as choked up as Snow feels.

“It's who you guys are,” Emma says, shifting slightly. “You're my mom and dad. I know you guys don't need a paper to know that, but I thought it might be nice to...”

She doesn't finish as Snow pulls her into a hug, and Charming quickly joins them, and they stay like that for a long, long time.

“Merry Christmas,” Emma whispers softly, and Snow feels like it already is one.


	116. Chapter 116

II

Prompt: _Snow is a barista that David has a crush on so he goes to the coffeeshop she works at every day to get his coffee and comes back after work to work on his novel and one day she writes her phone number/a pick up line on his cup_

II 

David Nolan thinks he might be falling in love over a cup of coffee on a cold November morning.

It's an accident, really. He usually makes coffee himself in the morning, but this particular morning his coffee maker is a must and his shower only has cold water, and frozen and miserable he stumbles into the local coffee shop he sees... Her.

She is smiling at another customer as he walks in, her bright green eyes sparkling with mirth. Her hair is cropped short, dark against her pale skin, and he feels breathless for a moment. She's gorgeous, beautiful, breathtaking...

“What can I get you?” she asks, voice light, and he feels tongue-tied.

“Um,” he says.

“We don't have 'um' on the menu, I'm afraid,” she says, and her teasing smile seems to light up the room. “Coffee, perhaps?”

“Yes,” he says, remembering how to string together letters into words. “Coffee, please.”

She smiles at him, and he watches as she puts his cup together. He can't make himself look away, feeling warmed by her very presence.

“Here you go,” she says brightly, and their hands touch briefly as he accepts the cup from her. Just a brief touch, but he still feels jolted, as if this is love at first sight and first touch.

“Thank you,” he manages to say.

“You're very welcome,” she says, and actually sounds like she means it. He looks after her as she shifts her attention to the next customer, and already knows he will want coffee here tomorrow too.

He comes in for coffee every morning after that, and she always look happy to see him. They manage to exchange a few words every time, but he wants to know more, wants to get to know her. After a week, he begins to come in after work too, to write on his novel while drinking her coffee, and that allows for the occasional conversation. Slowly, he begins piecing bits about her together. Her name is Mary Margaret. She's studying teaching. She's a lonely child. She loves birds. She has the brightest smile of anyone he knows.

He tells her a few tidbits about himself too. That he works at a veterinary clinic. That he writes in his spare time. That he had a brother one. That he was raised at a farm.

He thinks about asking her out more than once, but is never quite sure how. He doesn't want to seem like a creep, like some of the guys that make passes at her with every coffee order. He doesn't want just one date – he wants a lifetime of them.

One evening, after he's just entered, she walks over to him with a cup before he can even make an order.

“Feel like an adventure?” she asks, her smile slightly teasing. “I made you some hot chocolate with cinnamon. My specialty.”

“I'd love to try,” he says sincerely, and she smiles. Her smile widens as he tries a sip, and makes a soft sigh of pleasure. It tastes wonderful, he has to admit, warm and slightly spicy. She nods at him, then wanders off to deal with other customers. He watches her idly while continuing to drink his chocolate, feeling her occasionally glance back at him with a quizzical look. It is almost as if she is waiting for something, and he wonders what.

Only when he's finished all of it and picks up the cup does he realize what. There is a message scribbled on it. A message for him, with a phone number at the end.

'You're the only guy I know who looks at me and listens to me as if I am a fairy tale princess. Want to go out with me, Prince Charming?'

He looks up sharply, seeing Mary Margaret bite her lip nervously. Without looking away, he walks up to her.

“Yes,” he tells her. “Yes, I'd love to. Very much. I've wanted to since the first time you served me coffee.”

She smiles brilliantly. “Charming, Prince Charming.”

“My name is David,” he tells her, and she shakes her head.

“I prefer Charming. Suits you better.”

“If you say so, Snow,” he teases, and her green eyes seem to light up at his choice of nickname for her. He can't help himself. He kisses her then and there, cinnamon still on his lips, and soon on hers too.

II

Mary Margaret Blanchard knows she's in love over a cup of hot chocolate with cinnamon on a cold December morning; she wakes up in David Nolan's bed after their third date to find he's picked her flowers, made her all her favorite things for breakfast, and her specialty of hot chocolate with cinnamon too. 

Just like the Prince Charming she knew him to be, really.


	117. Chapter 117

II

Prompt: _Snowing wants to decide once and for all which of them has the most patience by agreeing to a friendly bet of who can withstand the other the longest._

Note: Some suggestive naughtiness in this one, but nothing explicit.

II

In retrospect, the bet had been A Bad Idea. A Monumentally Bad Idea, well worthy of capital letters.

It didn't really start innocently enough. More like indecently enough, wrapped in a blanket and each other after a rather frantic and passionate go on the couch after Charming had found her impossible to resist just because she had licked whipped cream of his nose (as he had enjoyed a hot chocolate with whipped cream and managed to get some on his nose).

She pointed out he always found her impossible to resist, and thus had the least amount of patience.

He argued that she found him just as impossible to resist and that she had no patience at all, citing that time she had ravished him on the kitchen counter for simply smiling at her.

She counter-argued that she could resist him any time she put her mind to.

He counter-counter-argued that he could resist her any time he wanted to as well.

And thus, they settled on the bet – the bet of who could withstand the other the longest. A friendly bet, really – only they both decided to play dirty.

II

“You're wearing _that_?”

Smiling, Snow turns around to face her husband. “I am. What's the matter? You've always loved this dress. You've frequently told me how much you enjoy... tearing it off me, was it?”

“Exactly,” Charming says through clenched teeth. “Tearing it off you. Off. Seeing it on you for a whole day is...”

“Torture?” she suggests sweetly. “You could always tear it off, me you know. Just admit defeat.”

“No,” Charming says, narrowing his eyes. “I can resist you. I can.”

“If you say so,” eh says, and smirks at he glares at her. “Come on, Charming. We have a dinner to attend, and you have a whole evening of watching me in this dress ahead of you.”

She is pretty sure she can hear him actually growl at that.

II

Snow wants to growl. This is blatant cheating, she is certain. Blatant. Her husband can't think this fair at all.

Tight pants. He knows how much she loves him in tight pants, and combined with just a tank top... That has to count as cheating, she is certain.

“Is something troubling you?” Charming asks, and his smile tells her that he knows exactly what he's doing.

“Oh no,” she replies, and outright smirks, the bastard. “You haven't worn those pants for a while”

“Mmm,” he agrees. “Not since... Oh, that day you jumped in the barn, I think? That was rather fun, wasn't it, Snow? You helpless to resist your own husband, having your way with him in the hay...”

“Charming,” she growls, and he grins.

“Just reminiscing,” he offers sweetly. “It was a good day. Of course, we've had a lot of good days. I remember that summer evening I came home in this tank top and we didn't even make it two steps from the door before you...”

“Charming!”

II

“Snow!” Charming says, and she turns around to see him looking oh so very bothered, looking torn between arousal and outrage.

“Yes?” she says sweetly.

“You're....” he says.

“Wearing new lingerie,” she says helpfully, shifting slightly. “Do you like it? It's a bit sheer, but I do like the green lacing on it.”

Charming says nothing. He is simply staring, or more like greedily ogling, taking in every inch of her skin. For a moment, she thinks she has already won, but then he swallows.

“Snow,” he says darkly. “I know what you're doing, and it won't work.”

“Won't it?” she asks, leaning forward. Charming glares at her, then stomps off, and she smiles. Triumph, she is certain, is very near.

II

“Charming!” she hisses, and her husband looks up at her.

“Yes, honey?” he asks.

“You're...” she begins.

“Wet and shirtless?” he suggests helpfully, and she swallows. She can see faint drops of water clinging to his skin, and she wants to lick them off so very badly. His smooth chest makes her fingers itch with the desire to touch him, and he smells of soap and Charming, so very Charming. “I was just in the shower.”

“I know what you're doing,” she says unsteadily. “It won't work.”

“Won't it?” he asks, shifting slightly. The towel clinging to his waist falls, and Snow feels a sharp, sharp rush of heat to her cheeks.

“I'm taking a shower,” she informs him, balling her fists. She will resist. She will. “A cold one. I will win this, Charming.”

“We'll see,” he says merrily. “Do you want to borrow my towel?”

“No!”

II

“No,” Charming says darkly. “No, Snow.”

“Yes, Snow,” Snow says. “The bet was to withstand each other. We said nothing about... finding some pleasure on our own.”

He closes his eyes, and she can see the pain on his face as he desperately, desperately wants her fingers to be his right now, touching and stroking.

“Would you like to join me?” she offers, and he just hisses and walks off.

She is almost impressed, she has to admit.

II

Charming has always been impressive, Snow has to admit. Very, very impressive, and watching him in his full glory is... Beyond words.

“Hello, Snow,” he offers, peeking at her through closed eyelids. “Did you want something?”

You, she almost says. Oh, how she wants him. Seeing him like this, naked in the shower, touching himself... Oh, how badly she wants him.

“I can wait,” she manages to say, and he grins widely.

“But just how long can you wait?” he teases, and Snow wonders that herself.

II

She lasts another day. But then, so does he.

II

“This is entrapment,” Charming argues and she gives him a pointed look.

“Is it really entrapment when you planned to trap me, and I planned to trap you, and we ended up trapping each other in this honeymoon suite?” she says, and he looks thoughtful. “Granny must have laughed herself silly when we both requested to rent it for the day and asked her to throw away the key until tomorrow when the other arrived.”

He chuckles, and then they both laugh, and laugh, and she isn't sure is he pulls her into his embrace, or she steps into his arms. She just knows that suddenly, he is very close, arms around her waist, her hands on his chest.

“I brought the dress,” she admits shyly.

“I brought the tight pants,” he counters.

“I brought the lingerie.”

He brushes his nose against hers. “Naughty. But you do know that dresses and lingerie isn't actually what I find irresistible.”

“I know,” she murmurs. “Just like tight pants and tank tops isn't what I find irresistible. It's you. It's always you.”

“It's always you,” he agrees.

In the end, they end up going for the kiss at the same time; everything becomes a haze of pleasure and desire after that.

II

Five hours later, Charming stretches and sighs happily, nestling a bit closer and leisurely kissing her shoulder.

“Who actually won?” he asks. “I didn't actually pay attention to that in the end. It didn't seem as important as finally, finally being with my wife again.”

“I say we both lost,” she says, and he grins. “But that we also both won.”

“I'll agree to that,” he says cheekily. “Does that makes this our joint victory lap?”

“If you want to,” she teases, and his eyes light up and she feels very firmly that yes, yes, he definitely wants to.

He will always want to, when it comes to her, she's pretty certain.


	118. Chapter 118

II

Prompt: _Ruth and Snow getting to know each other and becoming friends_

II

Doom, Snow thinks, regarding the small farmhouse in front of her. She shouldn't be this nervous about something as simple as this, yet she is. She closes her eyes and tries to muster the courage to face what she promised Charming she would, feeling her heart pound in her chest.

She stands like that for at least a few minutes when she's suddenly aware of a voice behind her.

“You must be Snow.”

Swallowing, Snow turns around to meet the gaze of an older woman who can only be Ruth, David's mother. She looks kind, and smiling, but Snow still feels more nervous than she would facing any ogre or black guard.

“Yes,” Snow says, trying to smile back. “You must be Ruth.”

Ruth nods, then wraps her arms around Snow and hugs her tightly. “I'm so pleased to meet you at last. David has told me so much about you.”

Snow swallows. Being hugged like this makes her ache for her own mother, but she bites back the grief and manages a smile as Ruth pulls back to look at her.

“Cha... David has told me a lot about you too,” she says, and Ruth smiles.

“I had heard you named my son 'Charming',” Ruth remarks, and Snow feels the heat rise in her cheeks.

“It was a joke at first,” she admits, and Ruth chuckles. “But then he... He sort of earned it. He became my Prince Charming.”

“And you're his Snow,” Ruth says, looking thoughtful. “A princess and a bandit both, from what I understand.”

Snow nods, shifting slightly. “I hope it doesn't bother you that I'm... That I'm who I am.”

“Oh, Snow,” Ruth says softly. “All I ever wanted for my son was to be loved. Your background doesn't matter one bit as long as you love him.”

“I do,” Snow says, lifting her chin. “I love your son very much.”

“I know,” Ruth says, taking her hand. “I can see it in your face and hear it in your voice when you speak at him. My dearest Snow, I would love you solely for loving my son, if nothing else. But from what my son has told me, I rather think I like you for being Snow too. Did you really organize an attempted break-out from King George's castle with the help of dwarfs and fairies?”

“Yes,” Snow admits, and Ruth's smile widens as she hooks Snow's arm in her own and leads her towards the small farmhouse.

“Tell me more,” Ruth urges, and Snow indulges her. “I have a feeling this will be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

It is, but not only that, as it turns out. It becomes a beautiful family too.


	119. Chapter 119

II

Prompt: _Princess Snow meets shepherd David and they share their first kiss_

II

This isn't how Snow imagined her first kiss.

She, young princess that she was, imagined a ball. A prince. Sweet words whispered. A tender, gentle peck of lips initiated by him.

Instead, she's standing in the middle of the forest, her cloak muddy, the wind a slight hiss, a sheep dog by her feet, being kissed after she imitated it first. And what a kiss! Gentle at first, yes, lips brushing lips, but his lips lingered against hers and seemed to caress hers more and more insistently and now, now this feels like something she didn't even imagine it was possible to feel from being kissed.

Her cheeks feels flushed, her lips feel swollen, and her stomach feels like it's full of butterflies. She can feel his hand against her cheeks, caressing softly, and he tastes of of summer and warmth.

This is no prince kissing her either, even if he has been everything she ever imagined a Prince Charming to be. He is kind, caring, brave, earnest and of course handsome.

He is also a shepherd. David, son of Ruth, trying to find a wayward sheep with his dog Wilby, and finding a princess instead. Just a shepherd, some would probably say.

Snow doesn't care. Not when he just saved her from an attack of bandits (that she nearly managed to defeat on her own – nearly). Not when he insisted on seeing her safely home. Not when he talked to charmingly about his mother and his life. Not when he looked at her like he found her equal parts wonderful and beautiful. And certainly not now, when being kissed like him feels like being more alive than she can ever remember feeling before.

She feels breathless as he pulls back slightly, looking at her with such bright, bright blue eyes that she feels dazed.

“I'm...” he starts.

She puts a finger to his lips sternly. “Don't tell me you're sorry.”

He smiles at the regal tone in her voice. “Is that a royal command, princess?”

She looks sternly at him. “I told you - call me Snow.”

“Snow,” he repeats softly, and she loves how he makes her name sound. “I shouldn't have kissed you like that.”

“I started it,” she says, feeling the heat in her cheeks. “You should definitely have kissed me like that. In fact, you should kiss me like that again.”

He stares at her intently, and she can see the desire and longing on his face. He wants to, she realizes, oh how he wants to.

So she kisses him again, and after a moment, he sighs as if defeat and kisses her right back.

He may not be a prince, she knows, but she is pretty certain he is _her_ Prince Charming and she's not about to let him go.


	120. Chapter 120

II

Prompt: _Can you play with the thought of prophesy + snowing_

II

For a second, Snow isn't sure why she's woken up. It is dark outside still, and she can't hear anything, so it takes her a moment to realize it's the missing warmth from the other side of the bed.

Charming. Charming isn't next to her, and she feels a moment of fear. With the Evil Queen half at large, she has been worrying about Charming's safety for a while. It would be just like the Evil Queen to hurt him to hurt her, after all.

Then she notices a faint light coming from the kitchen. Hurriedly, she puts on a robe and walks into the kitchen, and breathes a sigh of relief as she sees her husband sitting, looking at his hands.

“Charming,” she murmurs, and he looks up at her. His eyes are pained, and she immediately steps closer.

“I'm sorry. I didn't meant to worry you,” he says. “I couldn't sleep.”

“You're thinking about Emma,” she says, and she knows she's right from the look on his face. “We will help her survive this. I don't care what some prophecy says. She's our daughter. We're not losing her.”

He closes his eyes. “I want to believe that, Snow. I keep telling Emma we will win this. I just...”

“You're afraid,” she says softly, and he nods. “So am I, Charming. I'm terrified that we've come this far only to lose her.”

“You're putting on a brave face for Emma,” he surmises, and she nods. “Like I do.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “But Charming, you don't have to hide your fears from me. What makes you the bravest man I know isn't a lack of fears. It's how you fight on despite them.”

“I love you,” he says, smiling a touch sadly. “Snow. I don't know what I'd do without you.”

“I'm right here,” she promises. “I love you, Charming.”

He nods, then presses his head against her stomach. She puts her hands on his head, and just lets her presence be his comfort, like his presence is hers.

Outside, the dark slowly gives way to morning; darkness always gives way to light in the end.

II


	121. Chapter 121

II

Prompt: _charming buying snow lingerie_

II

He can do this, Charming reminds himself. He's faced dragons, evil queens, angry stepfathers, a wide variety of villains, ogres, snow monsters... He can do this. He can buy his wife lingerie. He can.

Of course, it's all _her_ fault. Snow challenged him into buying her something he wants her to wear, and she is going to buy something she wants him to wear. It sounded great when she persuaded him and kissed him into agreeing.

That was before he realized the one massive, massive problem he would be facing.

He can do this. He can. He's done his research. He knows Snow's size and he has a few ideas about colors and materials. He can do this.

Taking a deep breath, he marches inside and is immediately aware that there is a lot more variety here than he imagined. Silk and lace, yes, but also leather and latex and some materials he isn't even sure what are. Some are practically modest, others are so sheer and revealing that they reveal more than they hide.

He swallows. Already, he can see about a dozen pieces that would look stunning on Snow, and that's not even considering that some of them come in different colors. He had in mind mainly red or green, or perhaps black or white, but there are also some shades of purple, pink and blue that he is pretty sure he'll love on her.

This was exactly the problem he was dreading, he thinks. The problem was never that he doesn't love to see his wife in lingerie – oh how he does. The problem is that he loves it too much, so it's impossible for him to buy for her.

He can't choose.

He groans, just as the store clerk walks up to him.

“Can I help you, sir?” she asks sweetly. “Looking for something for a girlfriend?”

“Wife,” he corrects.

“Ah,” she says. “She's a lucky woman.”

“I'm a lucky man,” he says firmly. “She's the most beautiful, sexy, stunning woman in the world.”

“A romantic,” the woman says, and smiles faintly. “I have a few... exclusive and special items that you may be interested in, in that case.”

He nods, taking a deep breath. He can do this. He can make a choice.

How hard can it be?

II

“Charming?” Snow asks, and he looks up to see his wife emerging from their bedroom. “Didn't we agree that you would buy me something you want me to wear, and I would do the same for you?”

“We did,” he says, smiling at her. “And I did.”

“Charming, there are twelve packages in our bedroom. Twelve!” she points out.

“You said _some_ thing I want you to wear,” he says, stepping up to her. “You said nothing about it only being _one_ thing. I couldn't choose. I want to see you in all of those.”

She looks like she's about to protest, so he quickly kisses her, and kisses her again until she's moaning softly into his mouth and he knows he's won.

“Okay,” she breathes, and licks her own lips. “Which one do you want to see me in first?”

“I can't choose,” he murmurs, lifting her up. “Let's go unwrap one and let it be a surprise.”

(It ends up being a green lace one that ends up looking even better on her than he could have imagined, and that he uses nothing but his teeth to remove. It is his new favorite outfit on her – soon joined by all the others as Snow wears them for him through the weeks.

Even after having them modeled, he still can't choose just one favorite.)


	122. Chapter 122

II

Prompt: _Charming trying to give Snow a happy birthday_

II

Snow wakes to the smell of pancakes. In itself, that's not unusual, but the moment she opens her eyes, she sees the bouquet of snow bells on her nightstand.

So, Charming hasn't forgotten. She had almost hoped he would, but then again, he wouldn't really be her Charming if he had.

She might as well face it, she supposes. With a sigh, she gets out of bed and puts on a robe before walking softly into the kitchen.

There are more bouquets in the kitchen, she immediately notices. Roses, snow bells, tulips, orchids and carnations are placed in vases in the room. There is a stack of pancakes on the counter, and Neal is sitting in his high chair and grinning at her.

“Mama!” he says happily.

“Mommy is here,” she confirms, walking over to press a kiss against his head. “Now where is daddy hiding?”

“Daddy is not hiding,” she hears a voice behind her, and turns to see Charming entering. “Daddy was just getting something ready for later.”

She gives him a suspicious look, but he simply grins and walks up to her.

“Happy birthday,” he tells her, lowering his head to kiss her.

“Don't say that. You know I...” she starts, but he puts a finger on her lips.

“Please, Snow,” he says softly. “Let me try to give you one happy birthday. We haven't had a single crisis since the Black Fairy was defeated. You call this our happy beginning. So let's start new, happy traditions for your birthday. Let us celebrate it. Please.”

He looks so earnest, and so loving, that she can feel her heart ache. He wants so much to make this a happy day for her, she knows. She's had so many painful birthdays, and the memory of those is hard to shake.... but Charming does make her want to try.

“Okay,” she says, and he kisses her again. “What does celebrating my birthday entail, exactly?”

“Breakfast with me and Neal,” he says, brushing his nose against her. “Followed by some playtime in the snow for all of us. Then Emma is picking you up for lunch and a few other things that is a surprise. After that, a small, intimate birthday celebration at Granny's with friends and family. And finally, Emma is watching her brother tonight, so you and I can enjoy some quality time together.”

“I like the sound of that,” she murmurs, and he kisses her softly again; a tease and a promise both.

II

The pancakes are excellent. Charming seems to have put extra, extra effort into them, and has even shaped one into a heart. She has to admit as breakfast goes, she does enjoy it, and she only thinks about her mother twice.

They take Neal outside to play afterwards, and make snow angels, snow sheep and snow birds until they're all laughing, Neal included. They even have a small snow ball war that ends up a draw when Charming traps her in the snow and kisses her breathless.

Emma picks her up before noon, smiling at her. “I guess dad convinced you to go along with his great plans, huh?”

“He did,” Snow admits. “How long has he been planning this, exactly?”

“A month at least,” Emma says. “He didn't want to make too big a deal out of it cos he felt that might make you say no to anything at all, but he also wanted your birthday to be special. Speaking of special, before we're getting lunch, we're getting you the first of your birthday surprises.”

“The first?” Snow says, abut Emma just smiles, looking just as pleased with herself as her father would.

II

The first surprise is some light pampering at the spa alongside Emma, and they talk about everything and nothing, and Snow manages to actually feel relaxed.

The second surprise is an appointment for family pictures. Emma and herself first, then Henry, Neal and Charming joins them, having dressed up sharply, and Snow has to fight tears at the previews of the pictures. Her family, happy and safe, framed for all eternity.

The third is a visit to the school, where her class has all made her their own birthday cards, and sings her 'Happy Birthday' so endearingly even Emma smiles.

The fourth is a new dress for the birthday party that Charming apparently specially ordered. It is a white, glimmering dress that the shop keepers describes as 'fairy tale-esque' and does look good on her, Snow has to admit.

The party itself is well-attended, though not crowded. Charming has invited their closest friends as well as family members, but has clearly restrained himself somewhat. She appreciates that – as much as she has enjoyed herself, she isn't quite sure she's ready for a big party.

She has a good time, though. Sometimes, she thinks of her mother, or of Johanna, but then she sees Neal and Emma laughing, or Charming smiling, and thinks of the future instead.

At the end of the night, Emma says her goodbyes and takes a sleeping Neal with her, and Charming drives them both home. He says nothing as they walk inside, just removes her coat first and then his own. She watches him as he puts on some soft music and holds out a hand.

“Dance with me?” he asks, and she nods, stepping into his embrace. They dance slowly, closely, occasionally pausing to kiss.

“Thank you,” she says softly. “For all this. For trying so hard. For loving me.”

“My pleasure,” he says. “All of it. I love you, Snow.”

“I love you, Charming,” she says, and he kisses her until it feels like her toes are curling.

“Can I say it now?” he asks, a touch breathlessly.

“Yes,” she says, as he lifts her up.

“Happy birthday, Snow,” he says happily, and she nods.

Yes. It finally is.


	123. Chapter 123

II

Prompt: _A happy & funny Charming family moment plz_

II

Life is good, Charming thinks, watching Snow and Emma laughing in the kitchen. They're making gingerbread cookies while Neal watches with approval from his high chair, occasionally laughing as well. It's such a happy scene Charming is content to simply watch, leaning against the frame of the door, and staying quiet as to not interrupt.

His wife and his daughter, just enjoying what is probably a normal moment in any family, but is all the more special for them because of how much they've endured to be a family.

His family, he thinks with a certain amount of joy and pride. That Snow loves him, and that Emma is their daughter, never stops ceasing to amaze him. It is far more than he could ever have hoped for.

“Dad, stop looking at us like that,” Emma says, and he realizes he's been busted. Snow gives him a rather knowing smile, and he realizes she must have known he was there all along.

“Like what?” he says innocently.

“Like that,” Emma says, giving him a stern look. “Like the proudest dad in the universe.”

“And the most delighted husband in the world,” Snow adds.

“I can't,” he says with a sigh. “I am both.”

Emma just shakes her head, while Snow smiles. He walks up to them, giving Snow a quick peck before looking down on their handiwork. “What's this?”

“Gingerbread cookies,” Snow says innocently, and Emma looks on the verge of laughing. “Emma got us some new cookie cutters. What do you think?”

“They're...” he says, tilting his head. “Not Christmas-themed. What are they?”

“Disney,” Emma says, and now she is grinning. “I found Disney cookie cutters. They include Snow White and her Prince Charming.”

“You think this is funny?” he challenges, trying his best to sound stern.

“Yep!” she says merrily. “My parents, the cookie cutters.”

He manages to keep a stern look on his face for another second, then Emma's grin and his wife's giggles become too much for him, and he laughs too.

“Your parents, the soon to be gingerbread cookies,” he declares, and Emma laughs. “Think we will be tasty?”

They are, as they turn out – but the best part of it all isn't the taste, but seeing how much joy and laughter Emma and Snow get out of it all.

That's what makes his life so good, after all.


	124. Chapter 124

II

Prompt: _Snow & Charming having another baby and Snow breaking the news in an usual way???_

II

He wakes abruptly, sitting up into the darkness. While he isn't sure what exactly woke him, he is immediately aware of what is wrong. Snow isn't in bed with him. She might be looking in on Neal, he supposes, but he still has a sense of something being wrong.

“Snow?” he calls. He can hear faint noises from somewhere, and he puts on his robe and follows them.

There is a faint light on in the bathroom, and Snow is there, looking pale and drained. She has been throwing up, he realizes, and he sits down next to her. Gently, he rubs circles on her back and she closes her eyes.

“What's wrong?” he asks softly after a few moments. “Food poisoning? Flu?”

“You can't resist me, that's what's wrong!” she snaps, and he blinks. 

“What?”

“You find me utterly irresistible,” she says, and he has to admit that she is right. Even now, he finds her the loveliest woman to ever live.

“You're Snow,” he says in his fence. “Of course I do. Why is that wrong?”

“Because I'm twice a mother, twice a grandmother, and you still look at me the same way the day you married me,” she says, then groans. 

“How could I not?” he says, wiping her forehead gently. She doesn't feel feverish. “You're still Snow.”

She sighs, leaning her head against his shoulder. 

“I'm pregnant,” she mutters.

He blinks again. “What?”

“I'm pregnant,” she repeats. “You can't keep your hands off me, so here I am. About to be three times a mother, two times a grandmother and you will _still_ look at me like you're doing just now.”

“Snow,” he says, and he can hear the quiet joy in his own voice. A father. Again. They weren't trying, but he supposes in his hurry to ravish his wife (and her him), they may have forgotten about protection a few times. “I will always look at you like that. You know that.”

“I know,” she admits, glancing up at him. “When I'm done hating you for it right now, I will go back to always loving you for it.”

He smiles. “We're really having another baby?” 

“Yeah,” she says, and he kisses her forehead. “When I am done throwing up everything I've eaten this week, I will be happy about it, I promise.”

He grins, then simply holds her as she leans against him again. “Have I mentioned how utterly irresistible you look even like this?”

“Charming?”

“Mmm?”

“Don't even start.”


	125. Chapter 125

II

Prompt: _Shirtless Charming_

II

There are plenty of things Snow enjoy watching.

Birds. Snowfall. Vintage art. Archery contest (to know she would beat all of them). Her son, considering every moment she gets to see him grow up a treasure. The happiness of her daughter.

And of course, the true art that is the sight of her husband shirtless.

It's a warm summer day. Charming has clearly been working on their fences in the back garden for a while, and has decided to shed both his flannel shirt and tank top – and thus giving her quite the view to come home to.

The sun seems to be caressing his skin, making it seem golden, and she can see his muscles at work every time he moves. His smooth chest makes her fingers itch with the urge to touch, and perhaps even kiss.

He looks good. He looks better than good, but quite a few of the words she could use to describe him would be a touch indecent.

She sees the smile on his lips even before he turns, and thus gets about a second advance warning that she is very much busted.

“Enjoying the show?” he asks, and his smile makes his eyes light up too.

“Were you putting on one?” she quickly counters.

“Far from it,” he says, folding his arms, and damn him, looking far too good doing it. “I was merely innocently doing far work as the shepherd I am, until I found myself being ogled so indecently.”

“I did not ogle,” she protests.

“Oh, but you did,” he says, smirking triumphantly. “Still doing so, in fact.”

She opens her mouth to protest, then realizes that she can't. She is ogling. Blatantly, in fact. Worse still, she doesn't want to stop. Which means there is only really one way to resolve this.

She jumps him. Literally jumps him, locking her legs around his waist as he catches her instinctively, and then she kisses the smirk right off him until they tumble into the grass and she does more than kiss him.

II

Some time later, as she lazily draws circles on his chest with one hand and makes a path of butterfly kisses while at it, Charming stretches a bit and sighs happily.

“You're a very indecent princess,” he murmurs affectionately. “Ogling a poor shirtless shepherd and then ravishing him twice over? Very, very indecent.”

“And you enjoyed every second of it,” she counters. He looks ready to protest, so she gives him a firm kiss that he moans into.

“I enjoyed every second of it,” he admits when she breaks the kiss. “Especially the indecent parts.”


	126. Chapter 126

II

Prompt: _how seeing Snow in that casket again in s6 affected Charming_

II

Snow is sleeping, and Charming watches.

He does, sometimes. He has nearly lost her so many times that every now and then, he has a nightmare where he actually does, and afterwards, he needs to reassure himself.

It was the casket that did it this time. He had nightmares sometimes after the first time, when he found her in the forest and truly believed her dead, and kissed her goodbye. In his nightmares, she didn't wake, and a part of him died with her. Seeing her in that casket again, and the weeks of being separated by the sleeping curse afterwards, seems to have brought the nightmares back.

He exhales, watching Snow's steady breathing. The nightmare he just woke from still feels like an ache in his heart. She was pale, cold and lost to him. He can't lose her. He can't, yet he almost has so many times.

Gently, he puts his hand on her arm, needing to feel the warmth of her skin. Her skin is smooth against his, and he runs his fingers across it in slow circles.

She is alive. She is.

“Charming?” she murmurs, and he looks up to see her blinking sleepily at him. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” he says. “I'm sorry he woke you.”

She sighs. “Charming.”

He has always been bad at lying to her, he thinks.

“Just a bad dream,” he says, trying to smile. “It's okay.”

She turns over, pressing her forehead against his. “Charming.”

“It will be okay,” he amends, closing his eyes as she caresses his cheek.

“It will be,” she agrees, pressing a light kiss against his eyelids. “I love you.”

“Snow,” he whispers, and she kisses his forehead.

“I love you,” she says again, kissing the bridge of his nose. “I love you.”

She continues saying it as she kisses his face over and over, and he feels lighter every time she does. Eventually, her lips finds his in a kiss that simply feels like heat, breathed into him.

He is breathless when she pulls slightly back, looking at him so lovingly his heart aches.

“Do you want me to light a candle?” she asks, and he smiles faintly, remembering all the nightmares he tried to help her through.

“No,” he murmurs. “You are my candle, Snow.”

She smiles. “As you were mine. It was always you that chased the nightmares away and made me feel alive again.”

He nods, then leans in and kisses her again, letting the last lingering dread of his nightmare die away and simply feel... alive.


	127. Chapter 127

II

Prompt: _Snowing home from date night & Emma has been watching baby snowflake & something cute?_

II

“That was fun,” Charming murmurs huskily as they walk up to their door, and Snow can only smile. “Not that dates with you are never not, but this one was... especially fun.”

“Shush,” she says. “If Emma hears us, you'll add to her already significant adult childhood trauma.”

He puts a finger to his lip, but his smile is mischievous, so she's not entirely surprised when he pins her against the door and kisses her hotly, her lips soon feeling flushed against his. His stroke her neck as she digs her fingers into his shirt to pull him even closer.

They're both breathless as he breaks the kiss, and she gives him a pointed look.

“I was silent,” he says. “Followed your shush to the letter.”

“I'll remember to be more specific next time,” she says, then opens the door. “Emma? We're home.”

There is no answer, but there is a light on in the living room, and faint noises. The TV is on, Snow realizes, as she enters, but neither of her children are paying attention to the cartoon that is playing. They're both out like a light.

Neal is sleeping on Emma's chest, a finger curled into a strand of her hair. Emma almost looks like a child herself, her face so peaceful and innocent. She has a hand resting on top of Neal, as if guarding him, and Snow's heart aches.

Her children. Her two children, fallen asleep together, an utterly beautiful sight – but just a touch bittersweet too. If they had been able to raise Emma, these two would have grown up together, would have had hundreds of moments like this together.

“Our children,” Charming says, and Snow hears the same wonder tinged with bittersweetness in his voice that she feels.

“Our children,” she agrees, leaning back against him, and they just stay like that for a long, long time – watching a big sister and her little brother simply sleep.


	128. Chapter 128

II

Prompt: _Something fun & flirty with Snowing & gifts plz??_

II

Snow is slowly aware of touches and kisses, gentle and loving, not so much rousing her from sleep as gently nudging her. Charming, she knows, and smiles even before she opens her eyes to see him gazing lovingly at her.

“Hey,” he murmurs, kissing her again.

“Mmm,” she says. “This is a very pleasant awakening.”

“Good,” he says. “Merry Christmas.”

“Is Neal up yet?” she asks.

“No,” he says. “I just checked on him. He'll be asleep for a good hour yet. I expect he'll be eager and ready to open gifts then.”

She smiles, imagining how happy Neal will be to do just that. He is being outright spoiled this year, with gifts from his whole extended family. It is going to be a good Christmas, she is certain. Emma will be by later in the day to open gifts with them too.

Charming smiles at her as if he knows what she's imagining. Gently, he rubs his nose against hers and leans his forehead against hers. For a moment, they just enjoy the anticipation of the day ahead of them together.

“Charming?” she says, suspicion dawning. “If Neal is still asleep, why did you wake me early? We made everything ready last night.”

He smiles a touch wickedly. “Because, my darling Snow, there is a gift I'd like to unwrap before our son wakes up.”

She bites back a smile. “What sort of gift might that be?”

“You,” he says huskily. “The greatest gift of all.”

“I'm not even gift-wrapped,” she murmurs, and he smirks.

“We can fix that...”

II

A lot of gifts opened later, Neal is playing with his new dragon toy when Emma enters, a pile of gifts in her hands.

“EmEm!” Neal cries out excitedly, and Emma smiles down at him.

“Hey there, little bro,” she says merrily, smiling at him. “Did our mommy and daddy spoil you as badly as I suspect?”

“We did,” Charming says, standing up from the couch and helping Emma unload all the packages. “Merry Christmas, Emma.”

Emma smiles happily, accepting his hug without any hesitation. “Mery Christmas, dad. Where is mom?”

“Here,” Snow says, exiting from the kitchen. “Merry Christmas, Emma.”

“Merry Christmas, mom,” Emma says, walking up to hug her too. “Um, mom?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Why are there silver ribbons in your hair?”

Oh, Charming thinks, meeting Snow's gaze over Emma's shoulder. Maybe he got a little too carried away with enjoying his gift and forgot to remove all the festive wrapping.

Oops?


	129. Chapter 129

II

Prompt: _Her first word was what?!_

II

“Her first word was _what?!_ ” Snow and Charming exclaim at once, and Emma winces at their tone. Hoo boy. This is about to get real fun, she suspects. She knew they wouldn't take kindly to this development, but still.

“Disney,” Emma repeats. “Her first word was 'Disney'.”

All this because she asked to babysit her not so baby brother and her still baby sister. Neal and Eva Ruth are the most adorable siblings any big sister could ask for, but they also seem to have inherited the Charming family knack for finding trouble. 

Snow and Charming both look almost outraged, as if personally affronted by this.

“How?” Snow asks. “I thought we agreed that the D-movies were never to be shown on account of being terrible falsehoods and an affront to bandit princesses everywhere.”

“Mom,” Emma says, sighing. “It's just a cartoon.”

“It is an insult to your mother's character,” her father says, and Snow nods firmly. “Also mine. We are nothing like that.”

“I know!” Emma says, holding up her hands. “Look, I keep a few Disney...”

Her parents glare at her.

“D-movies,” she amends, “ in my house, okay? Just for fun. Neal found one and put it on. I walked in on him trying to teach his sister to sing...”

“Please don't say 'Someday My Prince Will Come,” Snow says in a pained voice.

“'Hakuna Matata',” Emma finishes, and her parents exhale in relief. “That's when I... accidentally may have exclaimed the... the D-word.”

“Di-ney!” Eva Ruth says merrily.

“Not helping, sis,” Emma says, and Eva giggles happily. “Look, it was an accident, okay? I'm sure we can teach her another word and just pretend that was her first word.”

Snow and Charming exchange pained glances. Then Snow sighs.

“I suppose that could work if we...” she begins.

“Shi-it!” Eva declares, and Emma can only close her eyes in horror.

Right. That was what she exclaimed right after the D-word, which now has apparently become her sister's second word. Stellar. Great. Absolutely fantastic. She's never going to be allowed to babysit again.

At least it wasn't the f-word, she supposes.

Silence seems to stretch on for a minute. Then her parents burst into laughter, and Emma opens her eyes to seem them leaning on each other as they laugh.

“Oh, Emma,” her mother manages to say. “You've manged to teach your baby sister a curse word and a word worse than any curse all in one evening. You truly have the Charming family knack for finding trouble.”

Emma has to laugh too. “I suppose I do.”

“Could be worse,” her father says, grinning. “It could have been fu....”

“Don't even say it!” Snow interrupts quickly, as Eva tilts her head and regards them all curiously.

“Fu?” she tries.


End file.
